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Last Updated: Aug 22, 2008 - 12:10:50 AM |
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What goes together better than fine wine and cheese, a warm fire, and classical music? Apparently it’s Busch beer, funnel cakes, and the grind and crash of metal on metal.
I went to my first demo derby a couple of Saturdays ago. At risk of sounding like a pretentious snob, I wouldn’t have gone at all if it hadn’t been for the Lion’s Club. I recently joined the group—everything they do is for community good and I refuse to be in a group that doesn’t do anything—and was recruited to sell funnel cakes on the evening of the Marengo Demo Derby. My thought was I could do my job and get the heck out of there as fast as I could. I even rode my bike to ensure a fast getaway.
To put it mildly, I’m not much of a car-sport enthusiast. For me, a vehicle’s purpose is essentially functional, followed closely by being aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Hopefully it gets me from place to place, can hold a lot of stuff, and be relatively dog proof. (This is nearly impossible with three dogs. I’m told my Escape “smells like animal.”) I honestly can’t think of anything more boring than watching cars drive around in a circle. In fact, I think televised golf is more interesting if that tells you anything about my feelings for sports with engines and wheels.
My ex-boyfriend (the one I somewhat stupidly followed to Baltimore) was into cars. Thankfully, except for a few Indy races on TV I would have to tolerate, his passion was two-seater British sports cars, and even I can appreciate the beauty of riding through the Maryland countryside with the top down. Occasionally he would drag me to a show, but since small British sports cars are primarily owned by wine-guzzling, NPR listening Anglophiles (or the British themselves), these shows would always be in some scenic location up in the Maryland mountains (if you can call them that), and of course in order to prove we were also Anglophiles (and British, in the case of the ex), we would have to drive the Triumph to get there. Sure, sign me up.
Anyway, here I am in Marengo now, where trucks are more prolific than two-seaters, and while you will never hear me waxing poetic about NASCAR (you’d have to tie me up and threaten me with sharp utensils first), I have to say that the demo derby is pretty darn entertaining. Okay. I’m a liar. I haven’t smiled that much in a year.
I would have been fine just selling funnel cakes all night, because there’s some sort of crazy part of me that apparently enjoys serving people food. “Extra sugar please.”—and as you sprinkle it on, their eyes light up, they start salivating, and a smile washes over their face in anticipation of the rush. People are happy when they buy funnel cakes. After I’d been there for almost two hours, one of the other Lions told me I should go watch. With some insistence on his part, and some moaning and groaning on my part, I reluctantly agreed and went to the bleachers. I didn’t think there was any way I was going to find any part of it amusing---and I was still thinking that as the first cars came in and lined up, facing outward, on the side of the ring. When they put the cars in reverse, everything changed.
The cars went “CRASH”, the crowd yelled “OHHHHHH!” and I couldn’t take my eyes off the spectacle. The goal, in case you were like me and have no clue about what happens, is to render the other vehicles powerless and be the last one in the ring capable of actually driving out on your own merit. To prove that the vehicle is no longer functioning—and I suppose so the others stop ramming them—the driver breaks a long stick that has been taped vertically within grabbing distance on the outside. The drivers take a lot of beating before they actually give up and break the stick. The front wheels could be virtually horizontal to the ground and you could see the driver still working frantically at the ignition, while the others are still ramming away, trying to force him into submission. Mud flies, steam rises, fires ignite, vehicles get stuck together and the audience cheers, and gasps, groans, and laughs (somewhat fueled by beer, I imagine).
In case you think the fun stops when the match is over, the clean up is just as entertaining as the actual event. Tractors and forklifts come in and scoop up whatever carcass has been left behind, sometimes with the driver still in it, and carry or push them out of the ring to make room for the next event. I couldn’t stop laughing and smiling, even when I got smacked in the chest by a chunk of dirt. It’s high entertainment. In fact, I was still laughing several days later when I’d tell people about it. Apparently watching cars and trucks smash into each other is better than anti-depressants.
The question may arise whether I was laughing at it or with it. I’m not even sure myself. What I do know is I’ll volunteer to go again in a heartbeat.
© Copyright 2008 by The East Iowa Herald
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Skies: SunnyTemperature: 20F -7CDewpoint: 6F -14CRelative Humidity: 55%Wind: NW at 21m - 34kBarometric Pressure: 30.46RUpdated: 04:53:38 PM
