Like most American males raised in the South, I underwent the deafening rite of passage that is the monster truck show at a young age. I was no different
from rest of the awe-struck younglings around me. We were all asked to make a single choice that would define us for the rest of our adult lives: Bigfoot
or Grave Digger? I came down firmly on the Grave Digger side of things, but there was a small, vocal minority that rejected that dichotomy. They chose the
third, less traveled path: the Truckasaurus.
I remember it clearly. The arena lights went dark. The announcer wove a tale of mechanized prehistoric glory. There, through the haze of hydrocarbons that
hung between us and the clay floor below, moved something sinister. Before our eyes could adjust, the stands around us lit up under the orange glow of a
huge and swelling fireball. We could feel the heat on our skin as we processed what we saw: a massive, mechanical Tyrannosaurus Rex shooting fire from its
snout. It proceeded to pick up and decapitate a Caprice. I felt bad for the Chevy.
I tell you this because someone in Denver just cooked up a Craigslist ad for the Truckasaurus. It's fake, of course. But that doesn't make it any less
glorious. Props for the Grand Theft Auto Maibatsu shout-out. .