Coffee Break with Liz and Kate

Yep, I’ll admit it readers….I went to a demolition derby of my own free will.  No one bribed me, coerced me,  or drugged me, tied me up and dragged me there. No one even had to convince me.   I just hopped into my Outlander with two of my kids (the two young enough to still be malleable), and my husband who is not particularly malleable but loves demolition derbies, and drove down the road to our county fair.  I paid my money and walked right in, head held high.  I didn’t even try to disguise my identity with sunglasses or a hat. I’d  like to think I’m getting in touch with my inner redneck.  I’m sure I am officially an embarrassment to some of my kids with my brazen demolition derby attendance.  They’ll be even more happy that I’m writing about it to my millions of readers.  (Perhaps millions is a slight exaggeration, but give me a break here..one can dream, right?) In fact, most of my kids wouldn’t be caught dead (or alive) at a demolition derby…it’s kind of like going to the rodeo to them, and we all know how they feel about our yearly rodeo adventure.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the whole sport of demolition derby, and I use the term “sport”  loosely,  let me just explain what happens.  A bunch of old beat up clunkers with paint jobs courtesy of a few cans of spray paint, enter an arena barricaded with concrete barriers and then proceed to crash and bash into each other.  The top few cars in each heat move on to a grand finale round where they pummel each other until there is only one car left running. The winner gets bragging rights and enough prize money to go home and fix up his/her car to do it all over again.

I found myself a real bonafied demolition derby expert on the internet at www.hartin.com who accurately describes it as,  “Kind of like a WWE cage match, when you think about it. There are just a few rules in the interest of safety and fair play, although in my experience they tend to be enforced just about as rigorously as in the WWE.”

My first derby was last year.  I have to tell you that through the entire first round I kept thinking,’ ‘This is so, soooo wrong!’  My classically conditioned response to the sound of crashing cars is one of  anxiety, fear, and overall yuckiness. By the end of round two, I was desensitized enough to stop cringing at every crunch, and by the grand finale round I was cheering just like the rest of the crowd who I am guessing were also getting in touch with their inner rednecks (albeit a task easier for some than others.)

Will I be returning next year?  Absolutely, and maybe I’ll drag a few more of my kids along as well.  Come on…stranger things have happened.

If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!