


He had won three races with his pinewood cars—long the drag-racing vehicles favored by Cub Scouts—at an event the night before. As he awaited the start of another race on a recent Saturday, he was excited but uncertain.

"I don't know exactly what my competition is," he said.

One thing he knew would be in short supply: actual Cub Scouts.

Mr. Baum is 61 years old. As he looked around the back room of a Chicago bar, he saw a pack of 20-somethings, a few families and a handful of older men like himself.

"Sure, the Pinewood Derby was designed for Cubs, but who says adults cannot do it?" says Mr. Baum, who has built some 30 cars in his basement workshop and won about 15 races since taking up the hobby seven years ago.

Rolling Out Derbies for Grown-Ups

A derby car built by Chuck Baum that resembles a rocket. Caroline Porter/The Wall Street Journal

Launched in 1953 by a California Cub Scout leader who envisioned a race requiring little more than a block of wood, four nails and four tires, the Pinewood Derby is coming of age. Parents have long helped their sons with the projects. Now, former Scouts and adults—mainly men—whose kids have long since grown are skipping the middleman to cut, sand and paint their own race car fantasies into reality.

The adult races—which usually involve unpowered cars barreling down a ramped track—take place in bars, community halls and at corporate events. Some are fundraisers for scouting troops, and some, like the recent one here at a Chicago bar called Derby Bar & Grill, carry purses that stretch into hundreds of dollars.

Competition can be intense, with grown-ups spending weeks shaping and smoothing their cars, slathering on meticulous paint jobs and buying high-tech parts from suppliers.

"It is a huge jump from when I was in Boy Scouts," says Dave Selden, a 34-year-old graphic designer in Portland, Ore., who organizes an annual race called the Stumptown 40, where contestants build their own little cars. "Everybody brings their A-game. It's shocking how much time people spend on these things."

Not everyone goes for speed, however. "We had one in the shape of a Jack Daniel's bottle that was hollowed out to fill with Jack Daniel's whiskey," says Mr. Selden. "It was too heavy, so they drank enough to make it meet the weight restrictions."

Pinewood Race Car

Other cars tweeted online while racing or carried lighted cigarettes. One carried a dead mouse. "I specifically changed the rules to remove dead things from cars," says Mr. Selden.

Jon Shabica, a 43-year-old coastal scientist, has organized a series of races in recent years in the suburbs north of Chicago. For him, the races are about recapturing something he missed the first time around. Green was his favorite childhood color, but his Pinewood Derby car was always red—his dad's favorite.

"I was the kid not allowed to touch my car," he says. "Now I get to build my own car every year."

The Pinewood Derby continues to be one of the most popular Cub Scout programs, says Renee Fairrer, spokeswoman for Boy Scouts of America. "I have been surprised at men well past Cub Scouting years who have kept their cars," she says. "Needless to say, the adult races are not something we actively support, but we understand that a lot of times the men want to create their own cars."

In his basement workshop on a recent evening, Mr. Baum rotated from his drill station to his sanding station, working on a fresh block of wood. Derby-racing trophies lined the back wall, and a collection of his prized cars were displayed on a table. An engineer by training, Mr. Baum helped his son, now 28, with his derby cars when he was younger.

About seven years ago, Mr. Baum got back into derby racing when his daughter needed help building a car for a race at her workplace. He says he now spends a couple of hours each week building new cars during the derby season, typically from late December through March. He has built ones that look like an antique car, a Jeep and a rocket.

"Sometimes you work like a dog on a car and it's not very fast," he says. "You never know."

On a recent weekend, he won all three races at a bar in a Chicago suburb, as part of a fundraiser for a Boy Scout troop.

The next day at Derby in Chicago, classic rock blasted over the hum of 27 televisions broadcasting hockey games. Participants and their cheering squads hoisted beer in purple cups.

For a $20 donation, contestants got a kit to build a car, or they could bring their own as long as it met Cub Scout rules, says Erik Baylis, the bar owner. "I think it's just everyone has a little bit of kid inside them," he says.

Cars faced off on a two-lane, aluminum track, with a little red light blinking to signal who won. Mr. Baum didn't like the format, which eliminated one car after each race. He prefers allowing each car to run on each track and taking an average time of the runs.

"There can actually be a slow and a fast lane," he said. "It only takes a quarter of an inch to lose or to win."

He flew through the first two rounds, knocking off opponents like Nick Achtien, a 27-year-old software developer, who had spent about 30 minutes on his car.

"I am disappointed that I didn't win," Mr. Achtien said after the loss. "I really could have made a better car if I had more time."

About an hour into the contest, the starting 22 contestants were whittled down to three.

Mr. Baum went up against Stephen Bonk, a 49-year-old account manager who races full-size cars in his free time. Mr. Bonk came with his 11-year-old son, Keegan, the reigning champion from Derby's race last year.

Mr. Bonk and Mr. Baum placed their cars in the parallel tracks, and straightened their wheels. A bar employee yelled a countdown, and the men watched their cars speed down the 32-foot track. The Bonk family erupted in cheers after Mr. Bonk's car got the winner's light.

"I thought I was doing pretty good," Mr. Baum said. "I don't know what happened."

The father-son team faced off in the final race, with Keegan edging out his dad to take the $500 prize. "I'm really happy," said Keegan—who is a Cub Scout.

As he packed his car in Bubble Wrap, Mr. Baum rued his decision to bring the losing car.

"If I had brought one of my faster cars, I would have won," he said.

Write to Caroline Porter at