MARTINSVILLE — Indeed, this is not the license branch anymore.
The dull, snail-pace of the old Martinsville BMV has been replaced by Speed Zone, a “playground meets night club” where most of the clientele won’t be eligible for a driver’s license for at least another decade.
Inside, the wall-to-wall cubicles have been swapped for a Hot Wheels hall of fame, with countless diecast cars hooked onto a black chain fence. Just behind the fence is where the fun begins, as the whole room has been modified specifically for play.
Dozens of play sets are scattered throughout the room, designed to allow Matchbox cars to do things even the best IndyCar drivers could never dream of. Children younger than 10 can zoom their cars over ovals like the pros, but they can also defy gravity on a vertical loop, or slide down perilous slopes and crash into walls, acts that would absolutely total your typical Chevy or Honda.
When the overhead lights are on, as some parents prefer, the sounds of children playing are accompanied by “When the Levee Breaks” and other hard rock songs, perfect for operating fast moving vehicles.
But Speed Zone isn’t really Speed Zone until the overheads are off, and the rainbow-colored club lights come on. The music here is a dance remix of “Dog Days are Over” and the room becomes less inside recess and more like Dave and Busters.
“I want to open a million of these,” says owner Ira Schwartz, a Martinsville resident. “The plan is definitely expansion.”
It’s quite the declaration given that the business only opened in April. But Speed Zone is turning out to be a big hit in Martinsville, with business being driven partly by word of mouth, and partly by social media excitement.
The idea for Speed Zone is simple, and Schwartz — who sports a mullet to go with his mid-’80s IROC-Z parked out front — was shocked no one ever thought to do something like this before him.
This past Christmas, Schwartz gifted his son with a Hot Wheels playset, a sizable parking garage with twists and loops and a fire-breathing dragon perched at the top. His son was overjoyed with the gift, playing with it practically non-stop for five days straight.
Then, Schwartz’s son began to ask for more play sets like it. He wanted this set, and that set, and Schwartz told him the family simply didn’t have room in the house for all those toys.
The heartbreaking tale instantly sparked a thought within Schwartz and his wife, Meredith: What if there was a place that could fit all those toys? What if there was a place kids could go to play with more Hot Wheels than a reasonable parent would buy for their child?
Lucky for Schwartz, the BMV was about to move to a new location.
Never grow up
The patrons at Speed Zone are almost entirely moms and their young sons; Schwartz feels a kinship with the latter. When asked what it’s like working with so many children at once, who are often loud, crying or both, he shrugs off the question.
“I have four children,” Schwartz says. “I don’t think I ever really grew up myself. My frontal lobe is probably still developing.”
He says he played with Hot Wheels himself as a little kid, but he generally preferred action figures like G.I. Joe. In the next breath, though, Schwartz retrieves a heavy case full of tiny Camaros he’s collected over the years, which he brushes off as “not that serious.”
“I’m a car guy,” he says, mentioning his other business, Liberty Detail, that offers car detailing in Martinsville.
With Speed Zone, Schwartz is now a tiny car guy, too, and so, it turns out, are a lot of other people.
When he pitched the idea for Speed Zone to some wealthy investors, they were enthusiastic about the idea, immediately saying they would take their own kids to a place like it.
Schwartz, a mere months after opening, is already beginning to see returns, as people from far and wide come to Speed Zone for parties, customization workshops or just to play for a couple hours.
Bob Hewitt, a North Salem resident who drove an hour to Speed Zone with his twin grandsons, Grayson and Christopher, bought a “7 visit play pass” that Schwartz offers, instantly knowing this was the kind of place they’d like to come back to.
Hewitt learned of Speed Zone from a Greenwood friend who had visited the shop the day before and raved about how much fun their kids had. Hewitt, a Hot Wheel collector himself, jumped at the chance to bring his grandkids.
“Hot Wheels is something we have in common,” said Hewitt.
The tiny cars bridge generational divides. In an age of smart devices and virtual reality, it turns out that kids love to watch something just go really fast.
Hot wheels are still cool in 2026, and if your house doesn’t have room for all those dragon-perched parking garages, it turns out there’s a place in town that does.
