Demolition Man

Brian Bess opens the garage doors of his shop next to his well-kept Wasilla home with a sprawling mountain view. The lawn is groomed, flowers bloom, and it is devoid of detritusnot at all expected of the environs of a demolition derby driver. The roaring noise the engines make when he revs his 76 Buick Riviera and Chevy truck split the calm, summer air as Bess, with a big grin on his face, parks his creations on his lawn. "They leak fluids," he says by way of explanation. The grass itself is stained Viagra blue, like a Smurf crime scene, from where he's painted the cars with house paint.

Theres something addictive about demolition derby. Theres an alchemy that happens when a driver scrambles through the drivers window of a car door welded shut and feels the rumble of the engine.

It happened to Bess at the age of 18. Raised in Pennsylvania, Bess says he headed to the State Fair with a helmet and gloves in tow as soon as he was legal. He knew that sometimes drivers will bring more than one car and was hoping someone would give him the chance to hit the track. Things worked his way and hes been entering derbies ever since. Once you drive it youre hooked. I know I was.

And here he is, 25 years later painting a white number six on the roof of the Buick and tinkering with his vehicles in advance of the coming weekends derbies. Bess, 43, is retired military, has driven in derbies in five different states and has a slough of trophies to show for it. He and his wife have recently moved into this home, which needed to meet two unwavering conditions: a view for his wife, and a shop for his derby cars.

I cant think of any comparable sport, you get this adrenaline rush along with the extreme sport surge, Bess says. And besides, hes only put about $1,000 into each car, substantially less than golf clubs and green fees, he points out. His wife says she has no interest in driving in a derby herself, but no fear for her husbands safety given the care he takes transforming vehicles into weapons of destruction. I know he builds them well so he wont get hurt, she says.

And there are regulations to what can appear like anarchy to the spectator. It seems strange at first glance that the promoters have so many rules for an event which is about destruction, but they are there for a reason. Safety primarily, but also to keep the playing field level, so to speak. But derbies are famous for cheating.

Demolition derby rules involve gray areas, and some people color much darker than others in those areas, Bess says. If you ain't cheating you ain't trying.

Although Bess denies cheating himself, he knows about some of the tricks other drivers will employ. Double tiresplacing one inside the other to avoid flats is a fairly common trick, one that is named in the regulations as it is hard to determine during inspection.

Some of the promoters stipulations are understandable. No hits in the drivers side door, no four-wheel-drive vehicles, no alcohol. Also commonly banned are Chevy Imperials because they are simply indestructible.

Bess often finds his cars on craigslist, investing somewhere between $100 and $300 for a running vehicle. Like most derby drivers hes particularly interested in 70s Detroit steel; the family car that would once have been lovingly polished in the driveway is now prized for its ability to inflict carnage on others.

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Demolition Man