I’m sorry about yelling that, but last week, St Jean de Sixt was covered in posters advertising a monster truck extravaganza, and we all know that a monster truck means a crushed car or two. Brilliant! Bring it on. Some friends and I meandered across the road and paid the €12 for a standing spot (it was €3 more to sit on some raised planks of wood which we decided wasn’t necessary).
After stalling for about ten minutes (probably so they could tell late-comers that they hadn’t missed anything yet and get a few more people in), the show commenced. But before we saw the crushing of cars, we had to watch a pre-teen kid on a quad bike, a relative of his do handbrake turns too many times, and a variety of dangerous-looking things involving kids and audience members that would have health and safety officials in shock in some other countries. Here’s a quick photo gallery.
Did we come here for the kid on a quad bike (they start young in this family)? NO.
Did we come to see the kid’s brother hold on to a car while another family member (dad/brother? who can tell) did handbrake turns? NO.
Did we come here to stick our kids in a truck that raises off the ground, with no seat belts on and the window low enough for them to fall out? NO! (But well done to those kids for performing the most dangerous stunt of the day.)
Did we come here to watch fellow audience members sit in the passenger seat of a Renault Twingo, unseatbelted, while the driver does yet more handbrake turns? NO. (I did that as a teenager in my brother’s car, and again in his mates’ cars, and more recently in a car owned by that passenger pictured in various snow-covered car parks.)
We came here for this!
Yes, after almost an hour of watching a guy in his twenties do handbrake turns and three truck-loads of kids squealing with delight at being raised up in a truck, we finally saw the Twingo and a Fiat Panda (truly sad that it was used: great cars in the snow) get crushed by the big truck. It went backwards and forwards a few times, then it was all over. We were allowed to get close to the broken cars, but not touch (that would be dangerous apparently: never mind all the broken glass and metal that we were standing on.
The show was meant to happen for two nights in a row, but they apparently only drew enough of a crowd for one performance, and that crowd wasn’t very big. I doubt the money collected from the entrance fees covered the cost of the two working cars that were wrecked, let alone their rent, transport costs and living costs. I felt so sorry for them that I bought a can of soft drink for €3 from their stand during the interval (yes, a one-hour show stopped to encourage people to buy a waffle, a crepe or a drink). Next time, they should just crush the quad bike before the kid gets on it and save us all the waiting time.