read write ride roam home
Rachel F. Elson Brooklyn New York rachelelson@yahoo.com 415-336-5262		From P.O.V. magazine August 1997 The Indie's Indy BY RACHEL ELSON The San Francisco Illegal Soapbox Society has only two rules: all the cars must be homemade, and every vehicle must have a place to hold a beer. "Race what you build," says Marty Crosley, the former bike messenger who started San Francisco's frequent soapbox races five years ago and still serves as the de facto organizer. On this Mother's Day Sunday, Crosley has lined up the first heats and jumps out of the way. With a rattle, hum and a couple of honks and clanks, Opening Day is under way. Speed is good, but attitude is better: the soapbox cars range from the standard Boy Scout variety to a land-luge and a Barbie dream car, with plenty of room in the middle. Racewear includes leather jackets, fishnet stockings, full-face helmets and plenty of bare skin. A furry gray rat creeps down, brakes on, with a toddler buckled into a child's seat; the rider in a plastic shark wails around the curves with a fin atop his helmet and a brace around his neck. In honor of the holiday, one three-season soapbox veteran, Jay Broemmel, had handed off control of his rig to his mom, a former auto racer. Driving the machine he welded together from three shopping carts and a couple of Vespa wheels (and equipped with flame jets and a water cannon) mom finishes last in her heat, but Jay's unfazed. "She wants to take it down again," he says. "She had to start on the outside -- she couldn't really line up the curves right." From P.O.V. magazine, page 21