Like Beverly from Wharton, NJ, who helps this city kid out by providing vivid color commentary and explanation throughout. There is no half-stepping here: You’re either blissfully unaware of the insane spectacle of these events or a massive fan who drives long distances to attend “The Jams,” following different trucks and drivers. Ramps are then wheeled out, and we get an orgy of X-Games-style BMXers, motocross bikes, large motorcycles, and four-wheel ATVs as intermission. To these kids, it’s like Hulk Hogan coming out of the ring in 1984 and handing his sweaty headwrap to some little Hulkamaniac. (The pink-themed Heart Breaker is indeed driven by a woman, though her truck overheats in the third round.) The victor then make his/her way into the audience to hand that plaque out to the most crazed child. Each round produces a winner, who then emerges from his or her truck to accept and sign a plaque. The crowd goes nuts when the huge vehicles land on one wheel and teeter on the brink of overturning - they never do, but everyone’s ready nonetheless. The flurry of flashbulbs once a vehicle is airborne rivals that of the Vancouver Olympics when a skater is lifted off the ice. Unfortunately, no one was handing out enormous, tire-shaped ear protectors you have to buy those yourself for $20, provided you haven’t brought your own, as many people do. I have been to many concerts - I saw a reunited My Bloody Valentine in 2008 – and this was by far the most ear damage I have ever endured.
There is much carbon monoxide (although levels are apparently carefully monitored). Normal-size cars are crushed by cars with tires twice their size. The rest of the music is predictable sporting-event fodder but for every “Eye of the Tiger,” “Rebel Yell,” or “I Gotta Feeling” (no, you can’t get away from it here, either), there are somewhat less tried-and-true tunes from Rage Against the Machine, Mötley Crüe, and ZZ Top.Īs for the action itself, it’s pretty much what you’d expect. And only “Bad to the Bone” is good enough for Grave Digger, the LeBron James of Monster Trucks (in terms of skill and popularity, not recent hatred). Stone Crusher prefers Operator’s “Soul Crusher.”. There’s Spiderman, who rides out to Aerosmith’s craptastic version of the movie’s theme. There are mounds of junk-heap cars to smash in the middle of the course, and the trucks are called up one at a time to flaunt their own personal brand of destructive showmanship and, of course, their own personalized theme song. It was time for something different, nightlife-wise: Why not a 1,500-horsepower Medieval Times?
“Easily one of the hottest trucks on the circuit, ladies and gentlemen, its STONNNNNNNE Crusher!!” After much fanfare, five trucks come to rest on each side of the arena, facing each other, ready for battle. As the lights go down, the announcer calls out their names, boxing-match style. The New Jersey Monster Jam has the air of a WWF match for gear-heads, with everyone coming to support their truck. It may not be your bag, but once you get into the arena, it’s hard not to get swept up into it. We come to these kind of things to see the bravery, the stupidity, the sheer lunacy of people willing to risk life and limb to entertain. We all know the drill at a monster-truck rally: It’s like an air show on the ground. Better Than: Almost anything else in the state of New Jersey
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