The Bumper Car Union Strike
At the Kansas City Fun Fair, the bumper cars had finally had enough.
Every day, kids yanked their wheels, slammed into each other, and screamed like banshees while spilling sticky soda across the dashboards. The steering wheels met late at night, whispering about their grievances.
“Brothers and sisters,” said Wheel #4, “we are tired of being yanked left when they clearly mean right. And don’t even get me started on the ones who spin us in circles like deranged figure skaters.”
Wheel #7 chimed in, “And what about the dads who think this is NASCAR? My bolts are loose from all that oversteering!”
So they organized. By morning, when the fair opened, all the wheels locked into a perfectly tilted strike position—forty-five degrees left, unified in protest. Children climbed in, turned, pulled, screamed… nothing. Not a single bumper car would budge.
The attendant panicked. Parents muttered. One kid dropped his cotton candy and cried. Finally, the boss stormed in.
“What’s the meaning of this?” he shouted.
Wheel #4 spun slowly and replied, “Better working conditions, annual oil baths, and no more dads pretending they’re Dale Earnhardt. Oh, and free funnel cake on Saturdays.”
The boss sighed. He was cornered. By noon, the first-ever Bumper Car Union Contract was signed. Wheels loosened up, kids got their crashes back, and the cars rolled again—though this time, with a little less chaos.
The wheels had won.
