There’s Nothing Quite Like Monster Trucks

For some reason or another, I kept getting weird looks from my friends when I told them that I had tickets to the USA Motor Sports Spectacular which roared into the Arena last month.

When I went on to tell them how much I was looking forward to going, their expressions went from disbelief to outright shock, occasionally accompanied by snide laughter. After this happened a number of times, I sat in my room and tried to figure our why the idea of me at a monster truck show got such weird reactions. Of course, I could have saved time and just asked my friends what they thought was so strange in the first place, but simple solutions like that never occur to me until long after they are needed. Eventually, I came up with a few ideas.

One idea was that I just don’t fit people’s image of a monster truck fan. Most people pictured the audience at the Arena to be made up equally of muscular hard-working farmers with T-shirts sporting motor company brand names and skinny guys with Hulk Hogan shirts (he knew everything there is to know about cars). I guess the mental picture of me, an upper-middle class dork who knows absolutely squat about motor vehicles of any kind (I even have trouble steering my own lawn mower), standing around cheering on a large truck with a huge crowd, just seemed too odd for some people.

Surprisingly enough, the real audience at the Arena seemed pretty city-fied. Even I was surprised at my failure to stick out like a sore thumb.

Sure, there was a pretty large rural element, but it by no means dominated. The audience really seemed not too different from the average Spokane Chiefs’ crowd, and everybody loves the Chiefs. What this says about perception and reality I will have to leave to the philosophers.

In truth, my friends had pretty low opinions of the old monster truck/car stunt show as a spectator sport. Some people even compared it with the stupid fakery of a World Wrestling Federation match. I have to say I can’t even begin to understand this viewpoint. Why seeing real-life destruction, motorcycles jumping way up into the air and trucks with impossibly large wheels lumber around doesn’t appeal to everyone, I’ll never be able to figure out.

I bet most people who sneer at monster truck shows are the same who rush out to see the next big Eddie Murphy flick, which is essentially the same thing except it’s recorded on film with a couple of one-liners thrown in.

Yes sir, in my mind, you just haven’t lived until you’ve seen a monster truck rally. I feel kind of like a war veteran, especially after standing up under the roar of a monster truck’s motor. Nothing I can write will accurately describe the sensations I felt when one of the metal behemoths accelerated.

The noise is the loudest, raucous, most ear-splitting cacophony I’ve ever heard. That even includes Alanis Morisette’s “Jagged Little Pill” album. Sometimes, I hear that sound in my dreams.

But the most exhilarating experience by far was the finale - the demolition derby. This event, probably invented by guys sitting around drinking Bud Lite, involves getting a bunch of cars together in one place and having them bash into each other repeatedly until all but one breaks down. The lucky driver of the winning car, unless he is carried away on a stretcher, is declared the “winner” and given a trophy.

This is obviously the greatest sporting event of all time. Seeing pieces of car fly across the Arena, while radiator steam spews into the atmosphere along with the smell of sulfur, is an experience everyone should witness at least once. I felt like a Spaniard watching his first bull fight.

So now it should be obvious that monster truck rallies should be appreciated by everyone. I predict that in the 21st century, monster truck shows will be the spectator event of a enlightened race.

Forget the Internet, monster truck shows are going to be the real great equalizer of society. But when you go, just remember to bring some ear plugs.