Plywood physics
Racing in a soapbox derby is more difficult&emdash;and
rewarding&emdash;than you may think
The first thing that you notice upon watching your first soapbox
derby is how competitive it seems. "The car in lane one took it by
two hundredths," comes an announcement.
"If you think our timing's that good," quips the event's M.C.,
"you're crazy."
Nevertheless, races between cars usually run neck-and-neck, and
most of the drivers and teams have brought along their own cheering
sections. Despite the fact that the race only runs for the length of
one downhill stretch, there's as much fan participation as in any
other type of (motorized) race. The runs average around twenty
seconds each.
More so in this one, the thirty-first annual Big Brothers of Metro
Toronto Gravity Grand Prix. The brothers are all decked out in their
finest yellow, blue, black and red uniforms and the cars all have a
fresh coat of paint and sponsorship stickers (Midas is this year's
title sponsor.) I'm told that many of the big and little brothers
have been working on them all year.
It shows, too. You very quickly gain an appreciation of the
engineering that goes in to many of these cars, despite their lack of
engines or any other kind of power or electrical equipment.
Cars are bedecked with spoilers and airfoils, and steering systems
rely on intricately routed wires that pull on the sides of plywood
panels, which in turn are attached to shaved-down lawn mower wheels.
While most of their bodies are formed of plywood panels, a few of
them have custom-formed fiberglass bodies, even with plexiglas
windows in place.
No disc brakes or ABS here; braking is usually accomplished by a
drop-down flap with a piece of rubber to rub the ground, or a bar
connected to shins that contact the wheels. (Hey, they work.)
The cars are styled with as much exuberance as other race cars,
perhaps more so because kids have been at work: there's a gray car
called Jaws, a dorsal fin perched defiantly on its wooden hood;
another car is a fiberglass reproduction of a rocket ship, complete
with guidance system. A quarter-scale Batmobile.
"The Cobra" has a snake made out of beads curling over its front
wheels. There's a brown-and-white football. The fastest car of the
practice runs is a hot-purple apparition with a towering rear
spoiler. There's even a "427cc" soapbox, complete with huge hood
scoop, supercharger boost gauge attached with duct tape, distributor
cap with one spark plug wire hanging loose, and intricate exhaust
piping running down its sides. (The car was to be driven by Alan
Tonks, a no-show; a little brother ended up racing it to seventh
place.)
Getting a soapbox to perform is difficult, more difficult than
getting a real car to go. Launching is a delicate act of steering
wheel movement, butt-wagging and upper-body heaving, not just
stepping on the gas. Lean down and hunch over the steering wheel for
optimum aerodynamics, I'm told.
The steering in the cars is direct and hypersensitive: at moderate
speeds, even the smallest steering movement produces a huge amount of
yaw. (During the Great Election Race, the Mayor of East York spun
into the haybales at the end of the course.)
As the cars reach the bottom of the hill at their top speed, their
front ends get light and they wobble violently. Braking is a lot more
difficult than in a regular car; there's no power assistance, and you
pull on a lever instead of stepping on a pedal.
Turnout for the event was phenomenal, despite the absence of a
couple of media and political luminaries. There were a good fifty
custom-built cars in attendance, and races ran all day until five in
the afternoon.
The atmosphere was always friendly, relaxed, and completely free
of the bad blood that you'll find at other races where one spectator
likes one driver and the next likes another, and they end up shouting
at each other: all of the spectators like all of the
drivers&emdash;heck, they're all the pit crew.
There's a place for everyone here, and perhaps that's the lesson
that Big Brothers would like you to take away with you. They're
always looking for new recruits and are already planning next year's
race. If you'd like to get involved, or even want to join the Soapbox
Derby Committee, give them a call at (416) 925-9891. They're waiting
for your call.
I'll tell you one thing&emdash;I want to drive next year.