How to Win a Prize by Demolishing a Car.
By pure luck, last week I met Jesse. He is the lead man on a complicated construction project Nora and I have going on in Arkansas. I liked him instantly.
Jesse is definitely from Arkansas. If I were to describe him, it would sound like I was stereotyping or demeaning him, and nothing could be further from the truth. He describes himself with words like country boy and red-neck, but what I saw was pride in his craftsmanship, deep attachment to his home and friends, an accent that I would never get tired of listening to, brilliant blue eyes in an outdoorsman’s heavily tanned face, and incredible skill keeping his cars running when the goal of everyone around him is to destroy them.
Jesse does demolition derby. I’ve never known anything about that sport except that the goal is to demolish each other, but a couple hours listening to Jesse talk about it took me into a whole new world and culture. I wish I had recorded it. There is so much skill involved at all stages, ending up in a haze of steam, smoke, burnt rubber, cheering fans and for a few, the winner’s trophy. Although I must say that after listening to Jesse talk about how sore everything from his neck to his knees were after a recent win, I’d say winning is still losing.
First, you have to buy the car. Jesse owns a bunch of them. I’ve forgotten the details, but not just any old car will do. It has to have this engine and that frame and be capable of running on jet fuel or something like that. He’s particular about the cars because to his practiced eye, some survive better than others and not necessarily the ones you would guess.
Of course some cars are banned, and those are the ones you want. For example, 1964-1966 Chrysler Imperials are widely banned at events because they were built so strong. In other words, if you are considering buying a car, check the list of banned vehicles to find your best bet for surviving a crash on your way to the grocery store!
On the other hand, it seems to me, ignorant as I am, that none of that is as important as it sounds because Jesse can swap engines, gut transmissions so they only have one forward gear and reverse, rewire them so the whole car runs on just two wires, add special wheels and tractor implement driveshafts that can sustain harder impacts, weld in strategic reinforcements, and on and on. It’s as if he can turn anything on wheels into anything on wheels, but reliably stronger. As a specific example, he quit using push button starters because one failed him once, and instead he just touches the two wires together. That sounds precarious to me in the midst of battle, but what do I know?
There is a long list of rules. Watching the videos, you’d think it was the epitome of anarchy, but no. If you’re interested enough, you can browse them HERE, but I’ll warn you that most of them are unintelligible to me.
Okay, so people in this demolish-to-the-death-sport get really good at modifying cars to fit the rules, although Jesse pointed out with a grin that anyone who is really good at bending metal is probably pretty good at bending rules too. Anyway, here’s the thing: in a multi-day tournament, if you keep winning you have to keep going back out in the same car each day. That means once you’ve won your first outing in a car that looks a lot like a soda can you’ve just stepped on, has lost wheels, has been pretty much… you know… demolished, you have one night to get it all back in condition for the next day’s competition. Since it would take me longer than that to fix a scratch on my Subaru, how on earth…?
You travel with hydraulic pullers and pushers and enough spare parts to rebuild your car two or three times, and hammers and welders, and a few buddies who know exactly how to dive into the wreckage with you. That, to Jesse, is the fun part – putting it all back together with his friends while everyone else is getting a good night’s sleep.
If you are a team, you might have four cars to put back together overnight, so you can go back into the arena with a deadly pack, like hungry wolves.
Then when you go back into the arena, you have to have strategy. It might look like random chaos to someone like me, but you and your teammates have to work together, ganging up, encircling, aiming for vulnerable spots, not breaking any rules. You go for your competitors’ jugulars. Wheels are one example – you want to knock “their” tires or wheels off before they can knock yours off. Jesse won one competition in a car that had no tires left. But he still had the wheels he had built himself. The ultimate joy is flipping a competitor’s car upside down, leaving the driver hanging.
Jesse and his team won last weekend in Kentucky. He came back to work this morning sore all over by being constantly banged into, but he won. He says at 44 years of age, he’s done now. He just wanted to win one more and then he’d quit hurting himself. His real love is building cars instead of wrecking them and himself – his blue eyes glowed when he talked about that part of the sport. Let someone else wreck them.
Just to look at Jesse, you wouldn’t know what to think of him. Big smile, baseball cap with sunglasses parked on top, courteous, funny, friendly. I was reminded all over again that until you get to know someone, you don’t know them. He’s a construction craftsman so exacting that a quarter of an inch off on a rafter is too much. A family man with kids he adores. A guy who can turn a pile of lumber into a stunning sunroom or a pile of junk into a winning car overnight.
Sometimes lifelong learners have to get out there and do the work to learn something new. Sometimes it just happens magically when a guy with an old toolbelt and a $350 framing hammer shows up for work.