A few miles east of Orlando, on State Road 50, families of all stripes gather for the cultural phenomenon that is Crash-o-Rama -- three hours of metal-bending, non-redemptive destruction -- the good old-fashioned demolition derby. Now I've wanted to see a demolition derby since the first time I heard Jim Croce croon about Rapid Roy, that fearless dirt-track demon doin' 180 miles an hour with a toothpick in his mouth. From the bad P.A. system to the ear-splitting roar of motocross and drag-racing in the distance, Crash-o-Rama was everything I'd hoped it would be. Metal bleachers that let the aluminum beer bottles fall through to the ground. Rebel flags, Elvis imitators, and car-crushing monster trucks. I even got to ride on one of the demolition derby buses before the races. And then there were the features: figure-eight bus races - with crashes and flames, skid-plate (front tires only) racing, boat-trailer destruction, and the finale - last car standing, total demolition. All of the bloodlust of bullfights and gladiators, without the actual blood and death. Sadly, Crash-o-Rama may soon go the way of the Drive-in movie theater. I've heard that Orlando Speedworld has been struggling to make ends meet. Here's hoping they can keep body and soul together for another generation or so. It was a beautiful thing.
The good stuff:
demolition derby (of course!)
bonfires
bike rides in the rain
graffiti
tie dye
worm grunting
learning a new skill
Halloween
brussels sprouts
slow-dancing
No comments:
Post a Comment