I guess the biggest surprise when Deux North visited the Demolition Derby wasn’t the bacon sandwiches, loud music or deteriorating carnival rides. No, our biggest surprised was how much we had in common with the drivers, mechanics and spectators. They were all lovers of a almost forgotten craft. 

People call us crazy all the time. Waking up at 4:50AM on a Tuesday for 2 hours of intervals, trading a burger for quionia and generally putting our bodies directly in harms way. We laugh and say they don’t get cycling. They don’t know moments of greatness where your body leaks into your frame and you can’t feel anything. They can’t know the joy that comes from not vomiting on a climb one day and vomitting during one the next day. 

After spending a few hours watching cars run into each other, interviewing drivers and taking pictures, nothing really changed. I don’t understand the Demolition Derby, I don’t, but what I do get is loving something that’s hard to love. I get that.