Last week, I lost control of a car at high speed. It was a white Mini Metro, entrusted to me by Dave Warren, a friendly retiree from Atherstone. At first, I was cautious. The chassis was beautiful, with slick racing stripes and a hexagonal MG logo on its bonnet. The type of vehicle once manufactured at Longbridge during its car-making pomp. But the car’s power meant I was soon speeding into the sort of turn that I had moments ago taken with care. I lost control, skidded sideways and slammed into a wall.
For any worried Dispatch readers, neither I nor anyone else was hurt. The car I had just smashed was aptly named a ‘tiddler’. A smaller class of slot car, just palm’s width across: an electric-powered vehicle that fits, via a blade or pin, on an indoor track, ready to be raced via a handheld console. It’s a hobby that reached peak popularity in the 1960s. Today, in central Birmingham, the pastime is kept alive by the long-running Oaklands Park Model Slot Car club.
Instead of the city’s admittedly dangerous full-scale roads, my race took place on a purpose-built 100ft circuit in a room above a metalwork factory in Ladywood Industrial estate. The space has been donated to Oaklands Park club by factory owner and wizened slot car racer Dave Beeching. And my dicey driving only receives kind encouragement from both Daves and the other members of the Oaklands club. “You’re new to this” they say, “you’ll get there.” The kind atmosphere belies the club’s current struggles. With the afterburn of the pandemic, the accessibility of digital entertainment and rising rents, Oaklands are up against it to keep the hobby alive.
But Oaklands has a storied history. For one, Dave W reckons they’re the oldest slot car club in the UK. “No one has disputed our claim,” he says. The club was formed in a Harborne garage (Avenue Road) by Stan and Ve Whitbread in the late 1950s, using a track originally intended as a present for their son. “But they ended up using it more,” laughs Dave W. During the 1960s, membership swelled and they moved to a Nissan hut outside the Harry Mitchell Centre in Smethwick. That was condemned by the council in 2012, and the club upped sticks to Ladywood.
With the boom years long gone, Duncan, the club’s newest permanent member, a friendly mechanic from Rugby, Mick Metcalfe, the club chairman, the two Daves and racing whizzkid James form the rump of the club. These lads are keen to ensure slot car racing in central Birmingham doesn’t die. For one, their enthusiasm and collegiate approach — not least the multiple cups of tea I’m offered — is enticing. And I find my hands increasingly tense and palms sweaty as I really get into the racing. Some cars, I later read, can even get up to 60mph on the straights.
I didn’t know what to expect when I first turned up. I was born into a generation who played game consoles in our teen years. I’m more used to crashing pixelated cars than smashing up physical miniatures. But slot car racing is easy to get into, with controls adjustable to beginner levels. “You can basically start out on a £10 Scalextric car,” Mick tells me over a cuppa later.
When I first arrive at the club’s quarters, I’m greeted by the sight of Dave Beeching in a workshop, tinkering with cars to fine-tune them. “You can effectively build your own…using skills that are falling by the wayside,” Dave W tells me. Above ‘tiddler’ level, there are also hard body cars ( more readily used for racing) and another type designed to run on a type of ‘goop’ substance designed to enhance grip. I wish I were racing on that, I think.
Like most hobbies, racing slot cars isn’t just about what happens on the tracks. A long ‘warm-up’ at the start of the regular Wednesday Oaklands club night offers the chance to socialise. Duncan, who has been a member for just over a month, tells me that he kept coming back for the “friendly atmosphere”. “And I think I’ve passed my probation,” he laughs. Dave W, who has been with the club for about a year, thinks similarly. “It’s hardly like I’m going to be Michael Schumacher is it? But it’s fun and, importantly, social.”
Behavioural standards, Mick tells me, are also important. He once worked for Subaru Prodrive, the racing team of the late Colin McRae, whose digital games I played growing up. He points to a copy of the Racing Code tacked onto the wall, guidance outlined by Motorsport UK for those racing full-size cars. Motorsport UK doesn’t have jurisdiction here; the British Slot Car Racing Association governs slot car racing across the country. “But those rules count here, too,” says Mick. I spy the words respect, self-control and goodwill on it.
Welcome to The Dispatch. We're Birmingham's new quality newspaper, delivered via email. Join our free mailing list to get two full editions a week: a Monday briefing, full of things to do and bitesize news, straight from Brum's streets, and a weekend feature, taking you deep inside your city and the West Midlands.
To get total access to all four of our weekly editions, you can join up as a paying member. We'd love that. But we understand you might want to try before you buy, so click below to sign up for totally free and start getting our special brand of local journalism straight to your inbox today.
Competition is on offer should a member want it. “Sometimes it can get heated for those who have been racing each other for years,” Dave W says. There are races against other clubs in the Midlands area, too. Local rivals include clubs in Leicestershire, Perry Barr and Wolverhampton. “Do well at these and you can progress to national and international meets," says Mick, referring to places like Czechia, Brazil, and Italy. “These can be gruelling,” he laughs. “Multiple days of racing and, of course, some drinking.”
From the outset, Oaklands has produced winners. Co-founder Ve was the first woman to become a national slot car champion. Mick has also won, and there’s reverent talk of the club’s big-name women’s winner, the legendary Sandy Parker. “A role model for female members,” says Mick. “She is bubbly…and in a male-dominated world, often full of bravado, she would smoke those who raced her.” Sandy, I’m told, is the daughter of late chairman Ralph Parker, whose loud shirts and knack for racing rubbed off on his daughter.
Mick is chairman now, but with such a small club, “everyone pitches in” he tells me. This is despite some long journeys involved. Mick, for his part, makes a 90-mile round trip from Banbury to Ladywood on Wednesdays. Part of this ‘pitching in’ has been an attempt to keep the club going — and growing. A Facebook group is maintained (which is how Duncan found out about the club), articles are written in a trade magazine advertising their beginner-friendly initiatives, as well as promoting a recent open day. “It was a success,” says Dave W. Almost 20 people turned up, he says, with a range of age groups; one young girl took home a Scalextric prize for participation. “It was great to see someone so young get involved,” he adds.
But still, Dave W admits the club is only a quarter of the size it was before Covid-19 struck. “People worried about their health, moved away, or went onto other model hobbies you could do at home,” he says.
Digitisation offers more convenience. “You can entertain yourself on a tablet at these days,” says Mick, acknowledging that some people also have to travel large distances to reach a practice track. “But we have the will to get people to re-engage.” They also understand that they’re lucky to have such affordable space. “Long gone are the days when multiple clubs were within 20 minutes,” says Mick.
But slot car racing has something that screens don’t. “There’s the social aspect, the face-to-face, but the practical aspect, too,” Dave W says. He’s not alone in this thinking; the national Scalextric4Schools uses slot cars to teach children about engineering and manufacturing. From my short evening spent racing, I also thought it was great for concentration: no social media algorithm or phone notifications to bother me here. Which isn’t to say I improve that much across my time spent on the track.
I did, however, stop crashing as much. Out of seven racers on the night, I barely scraped more than half the 80 laps Dave B completed but I didn’t finish last. Though there was some cursory post-race repartee about whose tyres let who down, most of the chit-chat circulates around who’s getting the teas or ice-cold Fantas in. After intense racing, I’m parched.
As I cycle home, I realise I’ve immediately developed a huge soft spot for the assembled personnel of the Oaklands club. Not only are they welcoming, they are skilled, keeping alive a passion that begets sociability, friendly competition, and, at more granular levels, the learning of practical expertise. I spend a lot of time worrying that my generation — a bridge cohort, who came of age as the digital world truly took hold — and generations after me are grappling with questions about what socialising and applied skills mean in a truly digital age. And I can't ignore a glaring fact: slot car racing, though open to all genders, skews very male. In an age where fears reign about the types of role models young boys are turning to, the likes of the two Daves seem exactly the sort of people you'd be happy for your son or brother to be learning from.
Slot cars might not be the whole answer to these existential conundrums, but some friendly smack talk and a cup of tea over racing could be the start. At the very least, I think, it’s a lot of fun.
Correction 28/06/25: this article originally stated that Mick had visited Czechia, Brazil and Italy. International meet ups do happen here but Mick hasn't been to these particular ones.
Comments