You Can Learn A Lot From A Monster Truck

I am not into cars. Never really had much of a passion for them. I admire vintage cars for their styling, new cars for their efficiencies and amenities, and trucks for being practical, but they are only a tool for me overall.

Sunday took the family and I to the Monster Jam at the Rose Garden. Not my first choice for an event to visit, but the kids thought it would be fun and the wife gathered a few others to join who had been before. I was surprised they wanted to go back. Hey, the price was right and the kids were anxious. That was enough for me.

The smell of exhaust choked the arena, and it hadn't even started yet. The sound, or insane decibel-bending motor noise, was destroying my ears. The kids were excited. I mean, this was cool dad.

It started with some locals running their elderly, disheveled rides around a makeshift circuit in a whirlwind of 14 second flashes that dizzied the crowd. Hoots and hollers abound as these die hard, gritty men rallied their ancient relics one after another. I must admit, I was impressed. A man from Stayton, Oregon named his ride 'The Cornfield Corvette.' That made my day. He was creative, and crazy! A seasoned, bearded logger, fitting the description of, well, a logger, drove his mid-70's Ford truck to the win on this day. A well deserved win my friends. This guy had heart like you couldn't believe.

The Monster Trucks were driven by real guys. Guys that addressed the fans throughout the event, throwing T-shirts to kids clamoring for them, and thanking the jubilant, choking, deaf crowd whenever they could (good thing I can read lips). They drove their ridiculous rides into vertical suspension, landing on wrecked cars that looked like the guy from Stayton's truck. How in the world a vehicle of that proportion could get that high in the air is beyond me, but it was fun to watch. Yes, I said it, FUN. My wife and I were laughing and cheering for a truck that looked like a dog - think Shag Wagon from Dumb & Dumber on steroids. A lot of steroids. It was ridiculous, frightening, over-the-top mechanized entertainment that actually delivered. But most importantly, the men involved were authentic and at least seemed to care about those who paid admission to see this spectacle of nonsense. I admire them for that. I admire the driver of Grave Digger shaking our kids' hands after he hiked his butt high into the stands (yea, discounted tickets, we're cheap). That is cool, and I have new found respect for the industry overall.

I most likely won't go to this event again. I would prefer to fish in clean air, listening to a stream, hearing the red wing blackbird croon, and not lose my hearing for a day. However, I will always remember my monster truck experience fondly and respect the men and women who perform for the audience. They were true to their craft, and true to their fans...