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Published: Wednesday, Apr. 06, 2011 / Updated: Tuesday, Jan. 03, 2012 12:38 PM

Cub Scouts’ ‘Super Derby’ racer maintains ‘Master of Speed’

LAKE WYLIE -- 

A custom Chris Rice pinewood racer covers 49 feet of track in less than four seconds. But if all you see are spinning plastic wheels chasing timer ticks, you’ve already missed it.

For a truer test of the Cub Scout Pinewood Derby, show up a week prior. That’s when I crash a Pack 333 meeting. I meet Rice, Cubmaster for three years, and Mike Purvis, his replacement. These are men who spend their Monday nights begging 120 grade school boys to scream at them. Already I’m overwhelmed.

I recall one, maybe two pack leaders when I was young. There’s enough adult leadership here to form subcommittees. I came to pick up a derby kit. I’m leaving with a growing sense of something special.

But not before Purvis calls me on stage to explain myself, to rile up the Scouts for our contest. I challenge Rice to a derby duel, he accepts. Purvis plays along. He’s excited to demonstrate “some good-natured competition.” He’s also frank.

“Better bring a fast car.”

From the legend, Rice chews up and spits out fast cars like sour cigar caps. Competitors call him “rocket man” and “master of speed.” In the time it takes to set six cars in their starting blocks, he’s accused of every imaginable speed modification scheme short of alien technology and witchcraft. He calls it good-humored razzing.

The verifiable facts seem to support the hype. In seven years of derby racing, the only time a Rice boy finished outside first place was when a brother beat him to it. Vince aged out two years ago. This derby would be Seth’s last.

“It’s kind of sad,” said their mom Christy. “This is what got Chris into scouts.”

Rice never was a Scout before his sons joined. His lone recollection of the year his brother spent Scouting – the Pinewood Derby. Maybe Rice remembers it because he’s a car man. In their dating years, Christy recalls Chris racing remote controls. He’s now service manager at Honda Cars of Rock Hill, an off-and-on employee of Hendrick Automotive Group for more than 20 years.

And when Rick Hendrick signs your paychecks, you don’t race for second place.

“It’s always been my passion,” Rice said.

Customary in Cub Scout circles to have dad help with Pinewood Derby preparation, I enlist mine. Somewhat for engineering, but more for the moral compass. Anyone with fingers and internet access can learn the fringe arts of tire scuffing, axle sanding, wheel offsetting. We nearly excommunicated my cousin from the family once for a “beveling” incident.

I ask dad where bent rules break.

“I don’t know how you get yourself into these predicaments,” he answers.

We have more fun than either of us admits. Opening the box, I’m flashed back to boyhood – sleepless eves and race day mornings painting green stripes and pressing sticker decals, barnstorming all-night grocery stores to weigh cars on produce scales. Stories we’ll still be telling when I’m visiting my uncle and dad in old folks’ homes. The kind of life memories you only have when you take the time to make them.

“Where it really pays dividends is, not every kid’s going to win,” Purvis said. “But every kid remembers, yeah, I built that car with my dad, or my granddad or whatever.”

I stare at a blank wooden block. I’m no Bob Vila. I’m not even Handy Manny. I have as much business handling tools as a scarecrow does flamethrowers in a kerosene storm. But I do have a plan.

I model Pilot after older brother and family folk hero Blue – unbeaten, untied. Rear-loaded and downforce-angled, scuffed wheels and axles filed to a polished shine. Streamlined as an ocean breeze with enough graphite in his veins to put a kid through elementary school. I even let my son – who at age 2 makes his greatest contribution simply by not eating the nails – help paint.

You never know what a boy might remember someday.

Superglue and coin weights swapping like some Middle-Eastern bazaar. Dads touting tools their mechanics found at the hardware store. That aluminum track glistening like a vat full of baked potatoes. Squint and the scouts even look a little like miniature NASCAR crews in their uniforms, except with medals and merit badges instead of sponsor logos.

On derby day I show up about the time the sun does. In four hours it’ll look like The Home Depot exploded at a Justin Bieber concert. For now it’s quiet, maybe a dozen volunteers at the River Hills Community Church life center helping lay track. Certainly for the good deed, but also the extended practice session.

Rice scrambles among them. I’m seeing no diva of the drill press. He’s fastening track pieces, erecting start towers, installing the computer timing program. An hour in before he takes his first test run. I follow his lead. About a tenth of a second separates our times. As Rice later admits, he’s worried.

We plan on racing “cheat” cars, too, but Rice’s blows an engine in morning practice. Read that line again. The man put an engine in a block of pinewood. It only ran once before it exploded, but flew so fast I literally glued my fingers together. I’m worrying I showed up to a gun fight with a piping bag.

Then I meet Stephen Wilson on scales, the table that taunts grown men to slam five-ounce wedges into the nearest wall if ever there sat one. He encourages every design, like the Snickers bar car that “really satisfies.” Norm Holtzhauer checks width and length. You don’t want him saying a word, lest another frantic trip to the power tool table.

He’s eclectic, but Pilot passes. If it sat in our kitchen catch-all drawer for more than two years, it probably ended up glued on or screwed into this car. Rice barely blinks. He’s outraced door stop and shoe horn designs, crusades-era crosses. Past years brought Arrows of Light, a Wii controller, battleship, surfboard and the “au naturel,” a block of wood.

This year offers the Snickers bar, an ice cream sandwich, horse trailer and breast cancer awareness ribbon. Plus Pilot, along with the best Purvis has to offer.

The starter drops. Three cars barrel down the decline ramp. I’d have to check the tape, but if Pilot isn’t in first place he’s fighting neck-and-neck for it. All the way through where the ramp flattens, and the cars kick into the final straightaway. Were Darrell Waltrip broadcasting this race, here’s where he’d have sprung out of his chair and hollered.

Somehow Pilot gets loose. He wiggles, wobbles and bolts his back wheels clear off the track and into another lane. Rice finishes first, Purvis second. Pilot finishes – almost. He stalls mid-straightaway with no tow in sight. I’m a lap down on a one-way track.

Purvis suggests one more run. I can’t even consider winning now. I just want to finish. The starter drops. Pilot keeps it together this time, wobbling once he hits the straightaway but holding course. The Rice rocket doesn’t wobble. Rice finishes first, Pilot second, Purvis third.

It takes less than four seconds to win a Pinewood Derby heat. It doesn’t take half that long to figure out there are more winners here than fast cars. Like Colby Sisk, 10, who won a top design award last year but wanted to better his fourth-place speed finish. Regardless, his top goal wasn’t inscribed on any trophy.

“We stay friends,” Sisk said.

Winners like Seth Rice, who despite pressure from the family name told mom he wasn’t too concerned about winning this year, just enjoying the race with friends. Like scores of kids who cheer on some newspaper man they just met like he’s racing their cars. Kids with perspective, and with men like Rice, Purvis, Wilson, Holtzhauer and many others to thank.

I think back to Monday night. Again, I’m overwhelmed. I’m bringing up one boy, and it kicks my tail. These men are helping raise hundreds.

“The biggest thing is teamwork between the parent and the child,” Rice said. “You work to build that bond.”

That answer follows a question on derby cars, but here’s a man who isn’t just talking racing. If you can’t hear that wisdom within his words, you’ve missed it entirely.

Competition: Chris Rice of Lake Wylie, Pinewood Derby champion

Contest: Racing Pinewood Derby cars at the annual Cub Scout Pack 333 event, held in February at the River Hills Community Church life center

Score: Since faster times are lower numbers instead of higher, and I don’t want to hijack my whole scoring system, I’ll just give out a point for each heat win. Two heats against Rice, two Rice wins. Final score: Rice 2, Marks 0

Overall Record:Pilot talent 12, Marks 2