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Photo by Jim Craven A radio-controlled race car flies through the air after clearing a bump on the RC Addictions track in Medford. Driving for thrills without the risk Radio-controlled car buffs make their miniature machines perform By MARK FREEMAN Through a trigger-like throttle and tiny steering wheel, Dan Chaplin lives every teenage driver's fantasies. He powers his model car over dirt jumps and tight turns with the relative speed and recklessness normally reserved for video games. The 16-year-old rural Medford boy could not possibly drive this way on the streets of Southern Oregon and live to tell about it. Dan Chaplin, 16, takes his RC car for a test spin. But on a local track built for radio-controlled car racers like Chaplin, the full-speed flips and car crashes come with a frequency appreciated by men who measure their mettle with miniature machines. "You can go full throttle without having to worry about someone dying," Chaplin says. "So you just let them go." So goes the thrill-seeking of Chaplin and dozens of other radio-controlled car racing buffs who turn Thursday nights at a small patch of North Medford dirt into a their own low-dollar, high-RPM racing world. The battery-powered, remote-controlled cars are one-tenth the size of conventional racing cars that zip across the Southern Oregon Speedway or careen through the Baja desert. But they more than pull their weight in fun for radio-controlled, or RC, car fans who have gathered for weeknight racing for the past 12 years at RC Addiction on North Pacific Highway in Medford. The cars are fascinating compilations of electric motors, batteries and an array of delicate pieces that can go 25 mph on straightaways and jump four feet in the air, crash, flip and keep on going. That is the equivalent of a Camaro going from zero to 250 mph in 4 seconds before turning, crashing and doing it again. "In most people's minds, they're toys," says Gene Skelton, whose RC Addictions operates the only dirt radio-controlled car track in Medford. "But they're so technical and are put together with so much precision that it's amazing," Skelton says. "I can't race them. But I sure enjoy watching them." Successful racers rely on skillful hand-eye coordination and the ability to command the speeding cars with their hand-held controls. Chaplin and others of the video-game generation do well in these races. Yet older racers like Chuck Tappan, 38, of Grants Pass, try to fill in the hand-eye coordination gap by getting a little more oomph under the plastic hood. "Like everything else in motor sports," Tappan says, "it doesn't hurt to be well-equipped." Rookie racers can spend about $250 on standard, out-of-the box RC cars and the right batteries, controls and chargers to compete in the novice classes, says Hamilton, who sells cars and charges $5 per car for adults -- $4 for kids under 16 -- for the regular 6 p.m. Thursday races. From there, racers can upgrade tires, suspensions and motors with all sorts of high-tech materials and gizmos made of the same tough titanium, light aluminum alloys and experimental plastics found in Indy cars and the Space Shuttle. The only difference is, they're much, much smaller. "I'm fascinated by all the little parts," says Rick Russell, a 53-year-old Central Point man and 14-year RC racing veteran who is one of the oldest, and most experienced, racers at RC Addiction. "I swear up and down that I have more fun putting the cars together than racing them," Russell says. The event imitates life at real race tracks by running heat and main races in different divisions, with only the large crowds and tow trucks missing. Racers who take the checkered flag win back their entry fees. Like NASCAR racers, they compete weekly for points. Year-end point totals are used to declare a season winner in novice, stock and modified divisions -- but the winners are crowned over dinner at a local pizza parlor. But most RC car owners say they race for the fun and relatively low cost for getting the same high-octane high that all gear heads strive for. "Everyone here in the Rogue Valley, basically, is a car nut," Tappan says. And most go nuts for the tiny cars when they give it a try. "All my friends think this is sort of funny and weird," Chaplin says. "But they think it's cool when they race it." Mail Tribune Copyright � The Mail Tribune 1999, Medford, Oregon USA