A Day at the Derby

The Tillamook demolition derby, that is. Because I agreed to attend the derby Saturday night, Yang agreed to spend the day at the beach with me. It is a perfect deal because, despite my moans and groans, I love the demolition derby. It is an unadulterated celebration of white trash. It is like watching a train wreck ten times over, without serious bodily injury (usually). Here are the highlights:

• Duct-taping on a neck brace before the round began
• Reading a list of sponsors (usually about five) for each car, and then proudly announcing the grand prize of $700.00.
• The respectful round of applause for the car that only made it half way to the starting line-up before it died.
• The saying on the side of the “Sponge-bob” car that read “Support are Troops.”
• The car that caught fire.
• The other car that caught fire.
• The fat, short man in a red tu-tu.
• The uninterested lady next to me reading “Psychic Self-Defense.”
• The overpriced caramel apples and elephant ears.
• The hilarious spectacle of 15 cars smashing into each other until only one car remains running.