Bit o' Nifty

Fanatic

Last April, my six-year-old daughter took to drawing cartoon characters on a sheet of paper, attaching a string, running vigorously, and yelling, "Look, dad! I'm flying a kite!" She did this for days. So, after looking through DVDs at the local screw-all-the-little-retailers megastore, that is, Wal-Mart, I bought her a kite. I got home, assembled it, and said, "Look, Zoe, a real kite!"

Of course, she was excited beyond belief, so we hopped in the car, drove to the local park, and flew it. For about 10 minutes she was in heaven, but then ... well, you know, SpongeBob probably was on television, and besides, there was no ice cream at the park. So that was it.

But. ...

One day I went out and flew that kite, a Jimmy Neutron model, don't ask, by myself. I had a blast. When I got home, I got online and started researching kites. Like everything else, there's a lot to kite flying. I decided that power sails weren't my thing -- the idea of being dragged across the park and hoisted into trees didn't appeal to me.

The stunt kites did. These dual-line, highly maneuverable babies can, if flown by a skilled pilot, perform amazing aerial acrobatics. I was hooked, and spend the next month researching kites, reading about tricks, watching online videos, the whole shebang. Finally, I decided on the model I wanted, ordered it, and within a week was the proud owner of a Prism Fanatic.

The trauma of learning to fly it is a whole 'nother story.

And, yes, the fat guy in the photos is me.