As a dad of two wonderful children, I have experienced a shift in my parenting role that I am certain I share with millions of fathers around the world.

When our kids are very young, they look up at their fathers with those adoring eyes that silently speak the words, “You are my hero!” They trust that we know everything. They believe that we have the answer for every question they ask. They know that we can solve every problem. But when they begin to grow through the years, those same adoring eyes might roll up under their eyelids at us and now they silently speak the words, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Our little boys and little girls have become teenagers.

Some time ago, a father of three girls told me, “When they’re young, they look at you like you’re God and then when they become teenagers, suddenly you are a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. You’ve become nothing more than an annoyance, and for their daddy who once knew everything, the game has changed. Now you know nothing and they know everything.”

While we tolerate our kids growing into and out of their adolescence, we hold on to those memories of when they were younger and we were their heroes with a big “D” for “Dad” printed in gold across our chests.

A regular reader of my columns, Blake Tharp from New Ringgold, recently shared his story with me about the time when he and his then 10-year-old son Jack built a model wooden car to enter in their annual Cub Scout Pine Wood Derby race. The project was a family affair.

“I carved the shape of the car, added weights and lubed the axles,” said Blake. “My wife, Karen, and my son worked on the paint design.”

Blake admitted that he designed the car for looks rather than for speed so their entry finished in the middle of the pack with their recorded times.

“Then my son asked if we could try for a faster car for the following year so that he could be in the winner’s circle with some of his friends.” Blake told Jack they could give it a shot, but he couldn’t make any guarantees.

Now, this is when a father seizes an opportunity to prove he’s the hero for a day to his son. No man ever wants to see that look on his boy’s face suddenly change from adoration and smiles to disappointment and tears.

So Blake began the task of building his son’s winning race car. He explored the internet and came across “The Flying Wedge,” an aerodynamic design that he and his wife and son decided to model into the appearance of a wedge of Swiss cheese. The building process came along nicely. The car was painted and shellacked into a high-gloss finish.

“As I was adding the wheels, the wood split so I had to glue it back together,” said Blake. “Then when I did some final sanding to make the car faster according to the directions, I messed up the paint a bit.” According to Blake, Karen was more interested in the appearance of the car and she didn’t think they could win the race anyway. She even added a cute little mouse as the driver for their Flying Wedge.

After a new paint job and some minor adjustments and the removal of the mouse to cut down on the weight of the car, they attempted a trial run.

“A wheel fell off during the run where the wood had been split,” said Blake. With the race date soon approaching, this dad, the hopeful hero, might have been thinking that “D” on his chest would become an “F” for failure if Jack’s car didn’t win a trophy.

He reglued the split wood and relubricated the wheels. “I had to trust the process,” said Blake.

At the race, 25 cars were entered and each of their six runs would be timed by a computer. “I hope the wheel stays on,” said Jack as his dad swallowed a lump back down his throat.

The Flying Wedge finished with the best time in its first and second races. Both Jack and Karen were beaming with smiles. In the third race, their car set a new track record with the fastest time ever. Later as more cars were timed, however, faster speeds were recorded.

“But the look on my son’s face was priceless,” said Blake, believing they had a good chance of winning a trophy. The last race was a competition between Jack’s car and one owned by his best friend and defending champion. The Wedge lost in a close finish. When the final results were announced, Jack finished in sixth place overall which guaranteed him a trophy.

For Blake Tharp, the real trophy that day was not the one emblazoned in gold that Jack proudly carried home. This was a special moment when he had proved to be a hero to his son. Five years have passed since the race. Jack is now 16 years old and has earned the title of Eagle Scout, but the story of the Flying Wedge continues to live on.

I do not know if Jack has become that typical teenager who constantly asks the question, “Why?” to everything Blake now asks him to do. It really doesn’t matter. The trophy is a reminder of that day when a little wooden car shaped like a piece of cheese forged an unbreakable link in the chain that bonds this father and his son together forever.

Rich Strack can be reached at richiesadie11@gmail.com.