A gainst my better judgment, I will now admit to you that competition is not my strong suit. Sure, I like to win at board games and things like that, but contests involving the phrase “high stakes” do not fire me up. They never have. And here’s an example.

When I was a kid attending Eau Claire’s St. James Elementary, we were having an end-of-the-year Olympics type thing were the school was competing in (low impact) track and field events. At one point, my whole class (there were only about nine of us) were lined up on a track painted onto the school’s parking lot, about to start a 30-yard dash. I’m pretty sure we were all wearing our school clothes – we didn’t even change into shorts or sweatpants or anything. There weren’t any big prizes at stake, not even a crappy plastic trophy with the gold foil flaking off. Nonetheless, everyone was excited about the competition.

Before blowing her whistle to start the race, my teacher asked us what kind of car we wanted to be. I’m not sure why she did this. Maybe she thought the race, all by itself, wasn’t thrilling enough. Maybe she thought pretending we were cars would give us more motivation to run our little hearts out. Maybe she was bored. Who knows?

Proceeding down the row, we all got a chance to name a car. As the other boys in my class rattled off the names of speedy automobiles like Corvette and Porsche and Ferarri, I thought hard about what I should say. Any dork could say something boring like “Lamborghini,” how obvious was that? Most of us a poster hanging up in our bedroom featuring a bright red Lamborghini, with its (totally friggin’ awesome) flip-up doors splayed open, striking a pose we’d later see echoed in a different kind of glossy picture (one our mothers would never let us go near, let alone hang above out bed). Nope, I had to be different. And cool. What automobile could possibly embody the collection of incredible features that was a fourth grade-level Mike Paulus?

It was my turn. I called out, “Limo!”

Yes, folks. Of all the precision automobiles in all the world, of all the amazing vehicles I’d seen do amazing things during countless hours of Saturday morning cartoons, of all the episodes of Knight Rider I’d watched, I chose the limousine. I might as well have said “corn combine” for all of the speed and agility a limo would signify.

I can’t recall the line of thinking that brought me to “limo.” It was certainly a standout response, which is what I was going for. But I’m not sure what made the limo so gosh darn appealing. Maybe it was the aura of luxury and importance it carried. Maybe it was the mysterious tinted windows. Maybe it was the little fridge located right next to the little TV.

Or maybe I was hoping a big guy in a snappy suit and little hat would pick me up and carry me to the finish line. Who can say?

Allow me to point out that, back in the eighties when all this happened, there were no curvy, sleek limos. There were no comically long Hummer limos and no limos shaped like spaceships. Limos were boxy and big. If this choice was an embarrassing one, I didn’t notice. None of my classmates laughed or really seemed to care one way or the other. Not one kid said, “Of course. Limo. Well played, Mike,” but I was still proud of my car. In retrospect, I think they probably had something else on their minds. Like maybe the 30-yard dash we were about to run.

Obviously, I can’t remember how the race turned out. Like I said, competition is not my strong suit. But I sure remember having a lot of fun picking out a car.

There are people who completely throw themselves into winning, and there are people who just like playing the game, win or lose. I’m not sure I’m either of these people. When it comes to Trivial Pursuit, I like to win. When it comes to racquetball, I just like whapping a stupid little ball around. When it comes to footraces, I don’t give a crap. And when it comes to awesome cars, I have no idea what I’m talking about.

If they were giving out awards that day for dorky things to say, I’m sure I would have won. I mean, I don’t like to brag, but I’m pretty sure I can beat any of you in a high stakes dork off.

Bring it on.