All downhill from here

Damien Lee is a racer.

The six-year-old first learned how to drift around curves when he was four, thanks to his rally-driving dad, and loves watching the British car show Top Gear. So when St. Albert organized its first soapbox derby in decades, it was a no-brainer for Damien and his dad Chris to take on the challenge.

Damien ripped down the hill at St. Vital Avenue in a replica of the Ariel Atom, an open racecar with a wrap-around cocoon of truss-like tubing. Like most of the participants, Damien was beaming as he guided his ride over the finish line.

"I won first place both races!" he said.

Damien's dad Chris is a computer guy who has helped build some real racecars in the past, but building a soapbox car was a new experience. Chris went all out, using Adobe Illustrator to draw a scale diagram of the car and spending about 50 hours building.

"This is actually the first thing I've ever constructed … my first foray into woods and screws," he said.

"I did it in five days, easily 10 to 12 hours a day. Needless to say I could barely walk afterwards."

History

Soapbox racing began in Dayton, Ohio in 1933 when a group of kids raced each other down a hill in cars made from household junk, according to an article on www.kidzworld.com.

These first racers were made out of orange crates, sheet metal, wheels off a baby stroller and even soapboxes. The races and the cars improved year by year and soon there was an annual soapbox championship that was drawing kids and cars to Ohio from all over the United States. Now events are held around the world.

Sunday's event in St. Albert wasn't a sanctioned race.

The first soapbox derby in St. Albert happened on St. Vital Avenue during the three-day celebration of the town's 100th anniversary in 1961, said Ray Pinco, chair of the St. Albert Historical Society.

"They were having them in Edmonton … certainly not in St. Albert," he said of the years prior to 1961. "We actually didn't have pavement a long time before that."

St. Albert was a town of 4,000 then and St. Vital Avenue was at the edge of town, he said.

The derby continued for a few years afterward but stopped for unknown reasons. Pinco doesn't think there's been another race in St. Albert until last Sunday.

It was the idea of the 150th anniversary youth committee to bring it back.

"We always see movies with soapbox derby races and we thought, 'Why not have one in St. Albert?'" said soapbox derby chair Abi Iskander.

She was very impressed that dozens of volunteers and spectators gathered to encourage the 89 racers, despite the afternoon being marred by intermittent deluges of rain.

"A bunch of people are here. It may be raining but everyone's still having a great time," she said.

Start your engines

Since the cars aren't powered, the key to racing is a well-built car and steering straight down the hill.

"The car has to be aerodynamic and the driver has to be able to curl their body towards their toes as much as possible so they're almost part of the car itself," says the kidzworld article.

In the United States, the soapbox-shaped cars have evolved into bullet-like tubes with very slim discs for wheels. The cars on display on Sunday were mostly basic plywood boxes.

Organizers sold kits that included wheel assemblies and templates for cutting out the base piece of plywood and a wooden steering wheel.

Some of the cars had authentic automobile steering wheels. One had a functioning horn and headlights.

There were prizes for the fastest times but the kids only seemed to care about crossing the line first.

Race day

Race day provided a carnival atmosphere that combined the smell of hot dogs with the crackle of public address announcements. Square bales lined the track of freshly laid blacktop.

Like any race day, Sunday provided a combination of excitement and nerves.

"She was up at four o'clock this morning," said father Dwight Campbell of his seven-year-old daughter Makayla, who was a gleaming display of teeth after guiding her purple car to victory in her last heat.

The most nervous moments were reserved for the mothers in attendance.

"Sending your kid flying down a hill in a wooden box is a little bit stressful," said Shawna Brown, the mother of a six-year-old racer. "There were a few mothers that were a little bit nervous about it."

Racers each had two teeth-gritting runs down the hill, racing three abreast after being launched from a plywood ramp.

For the kids, ranging in age from six to 12, the thrill of racing beat out the satisfaction of building the car.

"I like racing the car because when I went down the hill it felt very fast. And it felt very tippy. It was fun," said Adam Steffes, 7. He piloted a Batmobile conceived by his four-year-old brother and built by his dad and grandfather. A piece of stovepipe on the back acted as a jet thruster, though it was purely cosmetic.

"It's been a lot of fun. I love the fact that my father was involved with us, too," said Adam's dad Collin. "The fact that we had to build it from the ground up was a lot of fun, a lot more meaningful."

Another three-generation team was the Scheffers. After seeing the event advertised, the mother of the household mentioned it to the male family members.

"I think we were out the door to get the parts before she finished saying it," said father Mark.

Bonding

Dads reported they spent anywhere from eight to 50 hours on the cars. Some took two days. Others spent weeks, with varying degrees of help from their children.

"It was something that we could do together," said Chris Lee. "Even though I work crazy hours, I spent every waking moment doing this just so we could have the day together and he's had a blast."

His son Damien was obviously thrilled with racing, but that wasn't his first priority.

"I think that it's about Father's Day and having fun with your father," he said.