How my son accidentally made it to the Soap Box Derby World Championships

AKRON, Ohio — More than 300 Soap Box Derby racers from the United States, Canada and Japan will compete for the title of world champion Saturday at the 86th annual FirstEnergy All-American Soap Box Derby at Derby Downs.

My son will be one of them.

I wish I could say I planned it this way, but the truth is, everything I know about Soap Box Derby racing I learned in the last couple of months.

The modern-day version of this analog race may be struggling to remain relevant in today’s digital world, but it looms large in Ohio history. And depending on who you ask, it still is a pretty big deal.

I’ve recently met strangers – young and old – who dedicate countless hours of time and expertise to ensure the racing program continues. They welcome newcomers like family.

In some cases, entire families race, and are part of successive generations of soap box racers dating back to its inception. They will tell you with pride which members of their family have a car and a plaque hanging in the All-American Soap Box Derby Hall of Fame at Derby Downs in Akron, and in the same breath tell you they are rooting for you to be next.

Thanks to a string of insanely lucky coincidences, and a lot of amazing people, on Saturday, my son will get his shot to try.

An Ohio Tradition

If, like me and your new to this, let me catch you up. The Soap Box Derby is a gravity-based racing program for kids which has been running in the United States since 1934. It got its start in during the depression in Dayton’s Oakwood neighborhood, with a handful of kids who built homemade cars from soap boxes and other scrap materials, which they raced down neighborhood hills.

In 1933, six of these local kids got together to hold a race, and one of their fathers had the bright idea to call the local paper and ask them to cover it. A 25-year-old photojournalist for the Dayton Daily News named Myron Scott took the call. Perhaps sensing the feel-good appeal of the original story in tough times, Scott convinced the paper to sponsor another race just two months later. The stipulations were few. “Anything on four wheels that would coast,” the fliers announced.

Much to their surprise, 460 kids entered, and an estimated 40,000 onlookers showed up to watch.

The Soap Box Derby was born.

The first official All American Soap Box Derby race event was held the very next year on a section of hill on Burkhardt Road, in the very same Oakwood neighborhood southeast of downtown Dayton. Competitors from 34 cities took part while an estimated 45,000 spectators watched.

The following year the event was moved to Akron.

And the third year, in 1936, thanks to the wide-spread popularity of the event and generous sponsorship by Chevrolet and the city of Akron, it was held at a brand-new paved track at Derby Downs just east of the Akron airport where, with the exception of four years during World War II and one year during the COVID-19 pandemic, it has been held every year since.

A lucky break

Not having grown up in Ohio, we don’t hail from Soap Box Derby racing stock. In fact, outside of the roadside signage on the Cleveland Memorial Shoreway, until this past May, no one in my family had ever even heard of the Soap Box Derby, much less built a car or raced one.

That is, until this spring when a local racing family donated a day of Soap Box Derby racing to the charity auction fundraiser of my kids’ school – and another fourth-grade parent bought it.

The entire class took a field trip to the Cleveland derby track off the Shoreway, near Edgewater Park, and spent an afternoon racing. They loved it. The winners of the top spots were invited to race in the Cleveland Local Soap Box Derby Championship on June 1.

Much to her delight, my daughter took the top spot and was one of several winners invited back.

On the day of the local championship, we arrived not knowing what to expect.

The organizers generously loaned my daughter Natalie a car to race with and helped her get it set up. Meanwhile, her twin brother and I settled in with chairs and snacks. A short while later, someone walked over and asked him if he would like to race, too. Another racer, she explained, hadn’t shown up.

“Yes!” he said, practically jumping out of his seat.

The day was long and hot. Over and over again we loaded cars onto a trailer, towed by a pickup truck that hauled the kids and their cars to the top of the hill. And over and over again, they came flying down like mini NASCAR drivers.

Both my kids raced multiple times, changing lanes and exchanging wheels to eliminate advantages and ensure a fair race, and as the day wore on, Austin kept on winning. His sister eventually was knocked out and took a respectable fourth place. But to everyone’s surprise, most especially mine, her brother won the whole thing.

He took home a huge trophy. I took home a giant packet about the World Championships and a lot of questions.

The Cleveland Local Soap Box Derby Champion, as I found out on the spot, was entitled to represent his hometown at the World Championships in Akron.

The week-long activities in Akron started with opening ceremonies on Monday and preliminary races for Austin on Wednesday. Now he’s set to go back Saturday for the big day.

Talk derby to me

On the drive home from that earlier race in Cleveland, the excitement wore off and the panic set in. We had borrowed a car. What would he drive at the championships? How would I get it to Akron?

I didn’t know how to build a car or fix one. Other racers had trailers to tow their cars, and lightweight sawhorses to set them on for repairs. There were special dollies they used to tow them around, and handcrafted weights to tailor the car’s weight to the driver on race day.

That’s not to mention that in the super stock division he raced in, car and driver must weigh a total of 240 pounds. My child weighed in at only 78 pounds. This meant that his car weighed 162 pounds without him in it – more than I could physically lift.

And all of this was foreign to me, and it was happening in six weeks. I wondered, what had I done?

Joining a legacy of racers

Fortunately for us, a family of local soap box champions took us under their wings.

Greg Minch of Strongsville has a love of Soap Box Derby that dates back to the ’70s when he raced as a child. Minch’s uncle raced in the 1950s, and although Minch himself never won a world championship, two of his three children did. His daughter, Maddie, won the world champion title for the master’s division in 2012, and his son, Emerson, claimed the title for the super stock division two years later in 2014.

When you win a world championship, they take your car and hang it up in the Soap Box Derby Hall of Fame, along with a plaque. Minch showed me where both of his kids’ cars were hanging.

Minch’s children are now grown and no longer race, but like so many people in this sport, he still has the bug. A mechanical engineer by profession, he took our borrowed car, and spiffed it up. Minch adjusted the axels, and the steering and leveled everything out.

He gave us a new brake pad, added foam around the inside of the racing compartment to reduce drag, and carefully balanced out the weight. Then he drove to Akron to meet us and turn in the car for inspection ahead of race day and gave both driver (and mom) some pointers.

Stay down low. Tuck in your shirt. Don’t break early at the finish line. Don’t overtighten the screws on the shell.

I tried hard to take it all in.

We got a chance to get our feet wet this past Wednesday at a local challenge race at Derby Downs. It was a grueling day of lifting and lugging and sweating, but I understand now why people keep coming back. It’s pretty exciting, and I don’t even get to go flying down the hill.

Austin didn’t win that day, but he came pretty close, only getting knocked out in the second to last round by the eventual champion. And you know what? Those kids – including the eventual champ- fist-bumped each other and wished one another good luck before they climbed in their cars and did their very best to win. I couldn’t have been prouder if his car was hanging in the hall of fame.

And who knows? One day it just might be.

Saturday morning at 7 a.m. we will be back for the big race. Something tells me it won’t be the last time. Win or lose, there’s no doubt it’s been an amazing ride