Soap Box Derby dream comes full circle

Benton Hartline is headed to Akron, Ohio, after winning his local gravity prix and extending a family racing story

2:15 p.m. June 17, 2026

DUANE CROSS
MCO Publisher•Editor

The plaque is on Benton Hartline’s wall now.

It is old, from 1969, earned by his grandfather in a Soap Box Derby race in downtown Nashville. Russell Creager and his father built that car themselves. He finished second that day, close enough to spend the next 50-plus years telling the same story.

Almost Akron.

That was the family lore. A boy, a homemade car, a race at Seventh Avenue and Broadway, and a trip to the Soap Box Derby World Championship that he missed by one spot.

Then Benton found his own hill.

A family story gets wheels

The Hartlines did not come to the Tullahoma Soap Box Derby looking for a title. Benton’s mother, Jessica Hartline, had heard there was still a derby in town. The family looked it up, signed him up, and figured it would be a good day for Benton – and an even better day for his grandfather.

“We were just going to have fun,” Jessica said. “I thought my dad would love to see Benton race down the hill.”

Benton’s father, Russell Hartline, said the family came into the race almost blind. They used a city car. They attended two nights of workshops. They learned the rules, the safety checks, and the small things that make the cars go straight and clean.

The local derby volunteers helped them through it.

“The guys were so helpful,” Jessica said. “They have such a history with the Soap Box Derby. You needed help; they would come and help you learn.”

What stuck with her was not just the cars or the rules. It was the way the adults treated the drivers.

“It was really all about the kids,” she said.

One loss, then another chance

Race day turned hot and long, the kind of day where every trip back up the hill starts to feel like work.

At first, Benton just wanted to win a few. He did not know the brackets. He did not know how much waiting came between the runs. He just kept getting strapped in, rolling down the hill, and coming back up for another turn.

Then he lost.

In a double-elimination race, that changes the feel of the day. One more loss and you are done. Benton felt it. He had not come in expecting much, but by then he had won enough to start wondering.

“I did not come thinking that I was going to win,” Benton said. “But I started getting closer and closer.”

After the loss, there was a long wait. Benton had been running every few races, then suddenly he was not. He wondered if maybe he had been knocked out and missed the announcement.

Then lunch ended, and his name came back up.

So did the car.

Learning the hill

A seventh-grade student at Moore County, Benton began working his way through the lower bracket, one race at a time. He beat friends, which bothered him a bit. Up at the top of the hill, those kids had spent the day talking, waiting, and pulling for each other. Down the hill, only one car could cross first.

“I feel so bad to knock out some of my friends,” Benton said.

The family later counted close to 23 trips down the hill. There were timer problems. Reruns. Wheel changes. More waiting. More climbing back into the car.

Somewhere in all of that, Benton started learning the hill.

There was a dip in lane one near a parking lot. The bridge at the bottom was smoother toward the middle. The black wheels were better than the older white ones. Lane choice mattered. Wheel choice mattered. Tiny turns mattered.

“Black wheels, lane one was the guaranteed win for me, basically,” Benton said.

His dad laughed at that.

“He went up and down 23 times,” Russell said. “He figured it out.”