'Pretty crazy'

For the uninitiated, a demolition derby pits drivers against one another in a destructive contest. Instead of weaving between cars to cross a finish line, drivers slide and ram their vehicles into each other, hoping to outlast the carnage.

Awards go to drivers who can keep their car going the longest and sometimes to those who put on a good show, either with flashy maneuvers, stunning hits, or just stylishly designed vehicles.

Somerset Rural Electric Cooperative (REC) member Amy Juratovac, who enjoys spray painting and detailing vehicles before sending them off to their demise, says that despite the high-adrenaline carnage, the sport is incredibly safe.

“There’s a lot going on, but there’s also a ton of people who are watching it all unfold,” says Juratovac, who grew up driving four-wheelers. “You don’t have to freak out when you see a car on fire or somebody’s stuck because there are 20 people who are ready to jump in to help.”

Drake Schmouder, a member of and lineman for Mansfield-based Tri-County REC, is no stranger to danger; he works around high-voltage electricity for a living. On the job, safety comes first, and it’s much the same with his hobby.

“Most derbies will want you to take the airbags out [of the car] so they don’t blow up in your face when you hit people,” explains Schmouder, who has been winning prizes at demolition derbies for eight years. “I always put a four-point cage in my vehicle — from the firewall, down the doors and behind the backseat — so stuff can’t get caved in on me. … You have to wear a seatbelt when you run — just like you would driving a car normally — and a helmet and safety glasses.”

The lineworker grew up watching derbies at fairs. At age 16, a farmer he was working for told him that if he could make an old car run again, he could have it for free. Seeing his chance to finally dip his toes into demolition derbies, he found a way to make it run — at least long enough to wreck it one last time — and earn third place in the process. He’s been hooked ever since.

“I started off with minis — four- or six-cylinder cars — and now I’ve transitioned to large-truck and minivan classes,” says Schmouder, who primarily drives at the Tioga County Fairgrounds in Wellsboro. “It can turn pretty crazy very quickly. I’ve been in derbies where I’ve lasted 15 seconds, and others where I’ve gone all the way and almost won a couple times.”
 

What's going on?

From the stands, a demolition derby is wild.

Smoke billows from the dozens of cars crammed into one tight space. Rubber burns as tires fling mud into the stands. Metal crunches and screeches as vehicles slam into one another — noises quickly drowned out by the wails and cries of the crowd. Behind the wheel, drivers make split-second decisions, slamming their boots against the accelerator as they scan for targets while hoping not to be a target themselves.

“It makes you feel like your head is on a swivel,” says Steven Sickles, owner of Sickles Racing, a demolition derby team that travels across southwestern Pennsylvania. “Your awareness just shoots through the roof of what’s going on everywhere — what’s coming at you, what’s not.”

Drivers can’t just slam into one another endlessly, though. Survival in a demolition derby requires drivers to know when to hit and when to dodge.

“You need to have a good combination of both if you want to win,” Sickles says. “A lot of times, if you’re trying to do too much damage, you’re also hurting your car. You have to weigh the options and take the smart hits.”

While a derby is chaos, it’s not anarchy. Aside from having fire engines and ambulances on standby, a panel of judges enforces the rules — written and unwritten — for the safety of drivers and spectators. For instance, ramming isn’t allowed on driver-side doors; drivers have a minute to get unstuck during a derby; and all vehicles are inspected beforehand to ensure they don’t pose a danger to other drivers or the audience. 

Judges also decide who gets awards beyond just surviving to the end. A Mad Dog Award, for example, is presented to the most aggressive driver.

Like most contests, there are different classes of demolition derbies based on the vehicles and what is (or isn’t) installed in them. The most accessible class — the gut-and-go — is a bare-bones approach to demolition derbies. Rather than souping up a car, drivers strip vehicles down to the barest of necessities.

“You take a compact car right off the street, take the windows out, move the gas tank and battery, chain the door shut, and go have fun,” explains Bill DeArmitt, event coordinator for the 2024 BBQ Bonanza Demolition Derby, an annual event at the Huntingdon County Fairgrounds that’s sponsored in part by Huntingdon-based Valley REC.

A driver looking to enter a gut-and-go class can have a car ready in eight hours, according to Sickles, who also runs an automotive core business. But if you’re looking to enter a larger vehicle or something with a V-8 engine, it could take up to a month. Sickles suggests interested drivers start in the gut-and-go class.

“For that class, all you really need is the car, a good fuel cell and a battery tray, and you can be in it for under $800,” Sickles says. “Once you get into the heavier classes … we have anywhere from $3,000 to $4,000 in them when it’s all said and done. For the V-8s … some people have anywhere up to $75,000. There are a lot of expensive builds out there.”

Event organizers will usually print a detailed list of requirements for each class of vehicles months in advance of a demolition derby. According to Schmouder, you don’t need to be a certified mechanic to enter the gut-and-go class.