crash.crunch.pop

I didn't think that watching cars crash into each other would make me fall in love, but it did.There on the rusted bleachers among the beer swilling, cotton candy eating, peanut crunching State Fair herd, I realized what I love about my country.

2,000 people descended upon the dirt track at 7:00pm to watch late 80s model cars in the twilight of their twilight be driven to their certain deaths by unqualified drivers dressed in jeans, t-shirts, and motorcycle helmets. The event was free. The prize for each of three heats was $50.

We all watched with pounding hearts and sporadic cheers as the cars raced backwards toward each other and met with a CRASH! CRUNCH! POP! (As a now-seasoned demolition derby fan, I should tell you that it is much smarter to charge into another car while driving in reverse. After all, if the contest is for the last car standing, why would you shove the front of your car - containing the engine - into another? It's a death sentence).

Our country houses the truest demonstrations of the basic, carnal nature of the human condition. How different is the dirt track at the State Fair from the Roman Coliseum? (Certainly more rules and regulations at the track. That, and they had a flatbed trailer, fire fighters, and an ambulance. I bet that would've been nice for the gladiators and chariots back in the day...) And how different were the neighborhood bike trails or the living room wrestling matches of my youth from the State Fair track?

The country may be in financial disarray, but I'm not worried. Well, maybe a little - but not AS worried as I'd be if the country suddenly didn't think this stuff was fun or exciting, or if the State Fair all of a sudden stopped putting events like this on.