The Crooked Patch   For more than 25 years I've been saving a collection of seven cloth patches I earned by participating in canoe and kayak races in the Midwest. Recently I've been thinking I wanted a vest that I could sew the patches on, a vest that I could wear while paddling my canoe, so that my hat, which I love and my wife hates, would not be exclusive in its character and style. Finally I was able to locate a low price denim vest. Willie doesn't have a sewing machine, so I asked a friend who works with the youth group at church if she knew anybody with a sewing machine who is good at sewing on patches. "Yes, I do," she said, "and she owes me a favor!" That was good news, so I took safety pins and placed the patches approximately the way I wanted them, two on the front, one above each pocket, and five on the back. I just used one safety pin on each patch, thinking it would be understood that I expected the person who was doing the sewing to align them perfectly. You know that they say about the word "assume." When my friend gave me the vest she told me her friend left the pins in place to show me that she sewed them exactly where I wanted them. I was, and still am, very appreciative of the favor, and so I said nothing when I noticed that the center patch is obviously crooked. ...because I was careless when pinning it to the vest. After I got home I was looking at the vest, and was a little frustrated with the center slant, but then I started laughing, because the location of the patch is perfect. Not as the shape related to the rest of the patch collection. But perfect because of the memory I have of the race where I earned the crooked patch...and I know that whenever anyone asks me why the center patch is crooked that I will have to tell this story. The Kishwaukee River Race was for seven miles, all downstream. It started in a campground just above a "low bridge" that paddlers slid over and usually stayed upright. Near the end of the race was a larger dam. It was necessary to portage around the dam to the right, carry your boat down a path, put into the water again, paddle a hundred yards in rapids, and then the race ended. Each constestant was timed, because only two could start at the same time. There were several canoe classes in the race and one kayak class, with seven contestants. I knew the organizers so I was able to get into the first pairing, which would eliminate a traffic problem. I had borrowed a friend's Phantom Sprint Kayak because he had a new Match II. My objective was simple. I wanted to finish the race in less than an hour. I wanted to finish in the top three, because that would get me a medal. I especially wanted to beat a guy in an Interceptor who was a pain in the neck in other races. I was confident, not just because I was in the first pairing and had borrowed a fast boat. This was also like my home course, where I frequently put in at the large dam, paddled upstream almost seven miles to the low dam, then paddled downstream again. I knew the river between the dams like the proverbial back of my hand. I knew the channel, the obstacles, the deep water, and I was optimistic One two-man canoe passed me during the race but I was feeling good as I approached the second dam. I pulled over to the shore where I usually launched my practice runs and carried my boat around the dam. The problem was that the designated removal spot was across a little bay, closer to the dam itself, and required a shorter walk to the launch spot. So why did I get out too soon? Simple. That is where I always put in and took out when I practiced. Duh! That little mental error probably cost me 30 seconds. It was like taking a crooked path instead of a straight one. I finished in just under an hour. I also beat the paddler I didn't like. But I finished fourth of the seven kayaks, just missing a medal, all because of the crooked path I took, my stupid mistake at the portage. That patch on my vest does not deserve to be straight. I deserve to be embarassed by telling people why. And I'll be laughing as I tell them. Bob Cork  Paddle Back to Bob's Paddling Page