When my brother was 13 and in the 8th grade, his science class was given a physics project: construct a smaller-scale, fully functional trebuchet. For most students, this meant that it was time for a trip to the craft store for popsicle sticks, some elastic bands and a glue gun. For Brother, it meant it was time for a trip to home depot for some two-by-fours, some 1-inch bolts and some paving stones.
Brother is what one might call an overachiever. When he was 6, he was reading books on Albert Einstein. He got his very first fully functional, 6-inch diameter telescope at 8. Nothing really comes “small scale” with him, and the trebuchet was no exception. With some assistance with the power tools from my engineer of a father, and a bit of math, Brother constructed a 5-foot tall, fully functional death machine. It was so large when fully assembled that it had to be taken apart to be stored in our garage before the day that the project was due.
If Gulliver had packed this thing up and taken it on his travels, the Lilliputians would have had a whole lot more to worry about than large feet. The Wicked Witch of the West could have destroyed the entirety of Munchkinland before Glinda could have blown a bubble. I know, I know, “How could a grade-school project destroy Munchkinland? What did it throw, golf balls?” Well, yes. It threw golf balls. About 50 feet. It also threw bricks. Almost as far as the golf balls.
Our fun was quickly put to a stop by our mother. Something about flinging chunks of bricks through a public park being “dangerous”. Mothers. So melodramatic.
And so ends the tale of the trebuchet. Brother got 100% on his project. I just hope he doesn’t snap one day and turn his powers against an unsuspecting group of Oompa Loompas. Then we’d really be in trouble.
Cheers till next time!
Julie
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