For Some, County Fair Is a Smash

For most of the drivers in the Ventura County Fair’s annual demolition derby, preparation begins months in advance. The first step is finding a car that can withstand--and inflict--severe punishment. Geo Metros and Honda Civics need not apply.

“They try to find the biggest, strongest, baddest chassis they can,” said Cliff Morgan, director of competition for Ventura Raceway, which operates the auto races and demolition derby on the first two nights of the fair each year.

That means steel monsters from the 1970s and ‘80s, especially Oldsmobiles.

“These things are just sheet metal,” said 37-year-old Matt Thomas, whose No. 3 car was a 1985 Oldsmobile Toronado with front-wheel drive.

The derbies are among the most popular events at the track, drawing standing-room-only crowds waiting to see which automotive gladiator will be left when the carnage ends.

Drivers rarely pay more than $300 for a good body, and the fee to enter the contest is just $50.

First-time driver Larry Ayala of Oxnard got his No. 69, a 1973 Pontiac, for free from a friend and put about $100 into it. “It’s a big boat,” the 37-year-old Ayala said.

Drivers strip them, reinforce the bumpers, chain down the hoods and weld the doors shut. They also make numerous modifications for safety.

Each car is equipped with a fire extinguisher and reinforcing door bars. All glass and shattering plastics are removed, and the driver’s door panel gets extra padding. Windshields are replaced by mesh screens or chain-link fence segments. The cars are fueled by a two-gallon tank inside the body, which also houses the battery.

Drivers must wear racing helmets, seat belts and fire suits.

“Knock on wood, we’ve never had anybody hurt really bad,” Morgan said.

Drivers themselves have certain characteristics. Many have jobs with body shops or towing services, the better to spot weaknesses or find salvageable junkers. They toss around phrases like “my buddy’s junkyard” and thrive on the adrenaline rush they get from hitting and being hit by multi-ton steel hulks.

“You’ve got to be crazy,” Thomas said. “I just think it’s fun.”

Some drivers come back for punishment year after year. Mike Stanford, better known as “Derby Mike,” won in 2001 and returned to defend his title Wednesday in his fifth consecutive competition.

“My dad actually put together the first destruction derby in Ventura County,” Stanford said. “The very first one I did I was very nervous. [But] after the first couple bangs, it’s all fun.”

He didn’t plan to enter this year, but at the last minute he found a 1972 Ford station wagon that looked like it could hold its own. Getting the car ready “really brings the family together,” Stanford said. “They love to get in there and get dirty. My wife and three daughters were in charge of paint.”

Which could explain why, amid a fleet of flame-painted monsters, Stanford’s No. 4 car sported a lavender hue.

Inside, some cars had inspirational slogans scrawled on what was left of the dashboard, while other drivers had posted pictures of loved ones.

The rules are simple: Smash into everyone while trying to protect your own car. Two minutes idling and you are out. The last car moving wins.

“If you can keep your radiator intact, you’re in good shape,” Stanford said.

Different drivers have different strategies. Some like to take out the bigger cars while letting the smaller ones fail on their own.

Others aim for the front tires and fender to cripple their opponents.

“You try to build a good car and avoid any big hits by big cars,” said past champion Eric Griffin, who drove the black “XX” car, a 1975 Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser.

Sometimes the excitement of the event--aided by both roars from the stands and taped roars--takes over and drivers don’t even notice if they take a big hit, Stanford said. But a review of the dents and destruction gives a synopsis of the race.

“You’re kind of like, ‘I wonder when that happened,’ ” he said.

Just before 10 p.m. Wednesday, the rumbling pack was ready to take to the arena. The ground had been made soggy and muddy to cut down on traction and speed. Divided into two rows, the cars faced away from one another until the start horn was blown.

Drivers then threw their cars into reverse and started slamming. On the first volley, one sheared the trunk off a slightly smaller competitor.

As the mayhem continued for 20 minutes, panels ripped apart and padding flew onto the field. Steam spewed from the engines of disabled cars as the field narrowed one by one.

Stanford spent a few minutes attached bumper to bumper to a car sponsored by the History Channel.

He came loose with a helpful blow from Griffin, who later swung around and nailed the History Channel car so hard that the right rear tire--and axle--flew off.

Moments later, after a few more well-placed hits, Griffin emerged victorious, and the “XX” took a victory lap around the broken hulks of the losers.

“You put a few more hours into the car and it pays off,” said a beaming Griffin after the race. “I was able to go where I wanted, when I wanted.”

Although Griffin claimed the $850 first prize, everyone was eligible to patch up their cars and participate in the second derby the next night.

“Almost immediately they’ll start cutting and welding,” Morgan said.

If a car is too mangled, it goes to the junk heap. “Getting ‘em back on the trailer to go home is the hard part,” Stanford said.