While the average small town demolition derby is certainly no clash of knights in shining armor, it does share some of that same charisma. Back in the middle ages, brave men in heavy armor were helped onto their steeds by a page, so that they might vie for personal honor via the time honored sport of jousting; a process whereby one of the combatants was unceremoniously de-horsed by the other. (I can only guess that the winner then did a mad dance of celebration before riding off to defrock the king’s virginal daughter).
Today, in 20-something, we haven’t changed this rite of manhood very much (sadly there are no virgins), with the exception that our ‘horses’ have been replaced by a jumble of rusting metal on wheels. Creations that rumble and rattle their way across a field of mud, belching fire and smoke, much to the delight of local citizens. As in days long past, the object is still to bash the hell out of your opponent while maintaining the integrity of your own personal ‘steed’. The winner is literally the last one standing. Crude, very crude!
Still, I must profess that there is a kind of attraction to the spectacle! Perhaps because it really is a spectacle. Some of the best memories, I’ve taken back with me after the dust settled, was not so much the cars crashing together in wild abandon, as it was the expressions on a few of the ‘knights’ faces as they fought valiantly to keep from being de-autoed. Inevitably though, there came that ‘coup-de-ville’ moment when a stalled vehicle’s owner watched helplessly as another hormonally charged contestant gained ramming speed with wheels madly slinging up mud; both knowing that the end of one was nigh. Cool stuff that! And, yet another reason I intend to watch the Demo Derby on September the 10th at whatever Park it's at!
