Voice of the Mid-Columbia | Kennewick, Pasco and Richland, Wash. |
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closeMonday, Aug. 18, 2008
Ready to rumble at Kennewick fairground demolition derby
By John Trumbo, Herald staff writer
Beware the man in the ugly 1975 Chrysler New Yorker.
Dangerous Dan has every intention of living up to his name at the demolition derby at the Benton County Fairgrounds in Kennewick.
Dan Nelson's day job as a mechanic means he doesn't have to change clothes before racing home to wrench on the family chariots, which number almost two dozen at any given moment.
These days, the 28-year-old hard-driving motorhead believes Chryslers bring more muscle and metal into the arena. But in his younger days, Nelson ran the Tri-City Raceway in well-tuned track cars that came from General Motors assembly lines.
"I grew up in this," said Nelson recently while giving a quick tour of the helter-skelter shop at his parents' place in Finley.
"Be careful, stuff is all over," he said while side-stepping a large V-8 engine blocking the path. Tools of the trade were here or there, and everywhere, depending on where Nelson or one of his demo derby crew members last used them.
But a Good Housekeeping seal of approval isn't what matters to Nelson. It's the raw power represented by an ear-splitting crackle emitted from eight pipes on the naked 440 cubic-inch engine cradled under the Chrysler's hood.
"This motor won at the fair derby in 2006. I've been using it since 2001. You can't beat big block power," said Nelson with the kind of pride normally associated with thoroughbred bloodlines.
The rules in a demo derby are simple. Go fast. Hit hard and drive your car until it self-destructs or is beat to pieces by someone else.
And everybody drives like a maniac in reverse for a reason, Nelson said. The rear of a car can survive more hits than the front, where a solid punch can destroy a radiator or fatally wound the steering mechanism.
"There is a lot of reckless driving in reverse. It's 40 minutes of constant destruction," Nelson said.
"Our demo is one of the biggest in the state. We have 45 to 50 cars in the arena," he said.
"It takes me about 100 hours of work to get a car ready," Nelson said. He has to rip out all the upholstery, glass and plastic, leaving a bare steel shell.
Then comes the fun part, when Nelson lights up a welding torch and beefs up the carcass -- welding doors shut and adding safety features to ensure that he will be safe inside the box when the hits come.
"I bolt on road grader blades on the sides for protection, and use a 4-gallon stainless steel gas tank where the back seat used to be," he said.
The steering column and transmission shifting mechanism are custom built too. Nelson also has separate hand- and foot-operated throttles, just in case a hard hit destroys one or the other.
Big tube-type tires with tractor-like tread, and steel rims that have guards welded around the valve stems help keep a demo derby rig from being flat-footed in the arena.
Two 12-volt batteries provide starting power. No need for an alternator, but a beefed up starter is critical in a "crunch," he said.
Nelson has learned that by making a weak spot in the back where the trunk is creates a crash panel that can absorb a hit, transferring less impact to the rear axle. If the axles get knocked too hard, mechanical parts can fail.
Nelson has taken his share of hits, too, but nothing real bad.
"Mostly little stuff like broken fingers," said Nelson, who wears fire-proof shoes, a neck brace and uses a four-point seat belt.
"But it can shake you up pretty good. I think it is like doing practice with the Seahawks. You feel it," he said.
Tonight will be Nelson's 13th turn in the fairgrounds arena. His big Chrysler will be carrying logos for Camp Patriot, a nonprofit organization that provides outdoor experiences and adventures for disabled veterans.
If he wins, the $1,000 prize will go right back into his passion.
"I will spend that just in gas running around looking for parts and cars," he said.
It is getting harder to find good material for demo cars.
Although Nelson has a yard full of big iron material, a field with 19 sedans and station wagons won't last long while he's hitting up to a dozen demo derbies a year.
"It's getting more difficult because the scrap prices are so high. I'd like people to know that if they have a 1970s car to get rid of, I just want to put a few more dents in it and they can have it back to give to the scrapper," he said.
"The demo derby society is drowning because of the lack of cars," Nelson said.
But as long as he can keep that 440 alive and have a big Chrysler body to bolt it to, Nelson said he will stay in the game.
"It's therapy. I can't get mad for a week after a derby after being able to smash into somebody and drive away with a smile on my face," he said.
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