Crash, bang, smash 'em up!

I haven't celebrated the 24th of July Pioneer Day for sometime. It's strictly a Utah thing (or sometimes a Wyoming or Idaho thing strangely). So this past holiday I was able to celebrate in true style enjoying a true pioneer activity---DEMOLITION DERBY!!!
I'd never attended a demolition derby before, but was promised that the drive to a small Utah town in the boonies was truly worth the experience. And I have to say, it did not disappoint!
The general seating tickets have to be spoken for early, so we did some sweating in the sun for a few hours before the event. True, we did spend one of those hours with some local entertainment. We were serenaded by the sweet sounds of Rusty Bench and his karaoke machine. Rusty is a former derby winner and I assume that's how he got the job. 'Nuff said.
Once the actual vehicle carnage started I was stunned. The first "heat" I spent with my jaw dropped in disbelief. These drivers were ruthless! Each one of them was outfitted with a car (some had seen earlier derbies, I'm sure) none of which had any windows. The driver's side window bars and doors were all reinforced with egg crate foam, securely duct-tapped to keep it in place. Each driver wore a neck brace, a full-face helmet and an official t-shirt with jeans. There was no need for a back window and the windshield was missing so a white flag could be thrust out above the steering wheel when the driver needed to alert the others that he was "out".
The rules seemed simple enough: There are 4 heats of 7 or 8 drivers each. In order to stay in the game, you must hit someone every 2 minutes. If you car stops running, you have the 2 minutes to keep cranking it over to get it going and hit someone, otherwise you are "out". The last 2 drivers to be running, or not get out, went on to the finals, as long as they could get the car running again before then. Most cars were in such bad shape they had to be pulled or plowed out of the ring by farm equipment and bulldozers. They were ridden by the town royalty in matching pink t-shirts and sashes.
One particularly defiant car, an orange number four who had seen better days, lost his left rear tire, but continued bashing other cars for at least another 15 minutes, the metal wheel spinning in the dirt to propel him along. It was triumphant. A true lesson in persistence.
By the last heat, I had completely switched paradigms. The once sickening sound of crashing metal that you cringe to hear on the freeway was met in the derby by hoots and cheers. At one point, it was down to two cars and one of them, steam billowing from under the hood, was unable to move. As the driver crazily attempted to turn over the engine, the second driver positioned himself carefully. We were punching the air, screaming and howling at what we knew was coming next. Egged-on by the crowd, the second car reversed his trunk-snubbed Chevy across the ring to get a running start and slammed it into gear, tires spinning, to make one final hit. The sitting duck had to just sit and take it as his passenger side door folded into itself.
After the demolition finals came the fireworks display, which was even more thrilling than usual because of the sudden gales of wind. The fireworks shot up directly over the general seating, a little low for my comfort, and lit ashes and smoke blew across the arena to the opposite bleachers. The wind picked up, unfurling the flags completely until they stuck straight out as if starched. The fireworks seemed to be coming more rapidly. Peeking through the bleachers, I could see the pyrotechnicians running at full speed to light each fuse. The weather made the end of the show more urgent, so the whole thing became one huge fireworks finale. Everyone watched with their faces turned upward, but their bodies turned away from the direction of the pyrotechnicians, their arms pulled up against their chests and their eyes squinting. (It's the same position I assume when the volleyball comes my way.)
After the fireworks, we were left in darkness while someone fought the force of the wind to get to the light switches and large raindrops started to fall. It was eerie and scary in a fun way. It reminded me of when I was a kid, knowing I was safe, but trying to let the elements convince me I was facing the same doom as the passengers of a sinking ship. I was almost hoping for a mad stampede.
We left before the wind let up a little and they started the wipe-out, where all running cars go at each other until no one is left moving.
Next year I'll be more prepared, with safety goggles and a rain slicker for the fireworks show, and sunscreen and earplugs for the pre-derby show. (Sorry, Rusty!)