Jack Castle is Macon’s king of soap box derby car builders

By the time the last soap box derby car rolls down the hill on Magnolia Street Saturday afternoon, folks will be asking Jack Castle if he will be back next year.

He often tells them, “Probably not” … until the proverbial wheels start turning in his head. 

So, chances are, he really means, “Yes.”

“When they ask me if I am going to build another car, I tell them, ‘I haven’t thought about it,’’’ he said. “And then, all of a sudden, I am thinking about it.’’

Castle has made derby cars for the traditional April races for the past 12 years. The majority have been sponsored by his church, Centenary United Methodist, which is only six blocks down College Street from the starting line on the slope of the hill at Washington Park.

Being a longtime member at Centenary does not make him a “centenarian,’’ although he is closer to triple digits than most. In two weeks, he will be 82 years old. 

As an octogenarian derby car engineer, he’s almost as old as the storied soap box tradition in Macon, which began in 1936 a few blocks away on Forsyth Street. 

Castle’s cars compete in the “Shade Tree” division. There is a Professional Division for the serious speedsters, with several corporate-sponsored cars constructed in local body and cabinet shops. And there is the Gravity Racing Challenge for high school students primarily from design and STEM classes. The heats and races start at 11 a.m., and the event is free and open to the public.

Castle has piloted his cars twice in the competition, but he now leaves that up to younger legs and steadier hands. This year, his car will be driven by Bill Snow, his “grandson-in-law.”  It may be his fastest car ever, and his wife, Pat, is optimistic about his chances of finally winning in the speed category.

He is already a veteran of placing near the top in the “best of show” competition, which is often as colorful and creative as floats in a parade. 

One year, he won first place for his Conestoga wagon entry. He poured 100 hours into the project. It was so large that he had to take it apart to get it out of his workshop.

He turned heads with his “old woman who lived in a shoe” car. Another entry was shaped like a city bus, with drawings of eight passengers  in the windows. It was nicknamed “The Ghost of Miss Molly.’’  He was the mastermind behind a dragster with PVC pipes along the back, fueled by water and dry ice to look like exhaust fumes.

Last year, his granddaughter, Haley Snow, was behind the wheel after Castle took a 6-foot aluminum ladder he bought at the Historic Macon Flea Market and repurposed it into the shape of a wedge of cheese. It finished third in “best of show.” (He is using that same ladder as the body frame for this year’s entry.)

He once asked organizers if anyone had ever entered a “soap box” for the soap box derby. When he was told no, he went right to work. 

Castle is retired from Gem Laundry and Dry Cleaning on Vineville Avenue, so leave it to a dry cleaning guy to roll out a car in the shape of a box of Tide laundry detergent. (Of course, it wasn’t the most aerodynamically sound vehicle in the race.) 

He has enjoyed woodworking most of his life, and he now volunteers doing home repair with Rebuilding Macon. He can make or fix anything, so he is a “Jack” of all trades. 

Castle admits he’s come a long way since he entered his first car, sponsored by Rodeo Beach, formerly an outdoors store in Mercer Village. He built it on a simple wooden frame with lawn mower wheels.

“When I looked around at the other cars, I realized how backward I was,’’ he said. “They were all fancier. It ran terribly. I could have walked down the hill faster. It was steered with your feet and had a handbrake. You couldn’t use your feet to stop. Flintstone brakes were not legal.’’

He said he did not expect to still be involved with the soap box derby after that rookie experience.

“I hardly expected to be doing it a second time,’’ he said, laughing. 

But he did it. And another. And another. Last year, he said this year was going to be his last. No one holds him to his word.

He’s already thinking about the next one.