Good family fun: Night of jumping, smashing trucks

So monster trucks went to Europe, and some people in the stands wore tuxedoes and evening gowns. Monster truck driver Adam Anderson looked at them and didn't know what to make of it.

"They were kind of clapping a little bit" at first, he says.

"But at the end of the show, you see this chick wearing this evening gown, and she's standing up cheering, trying to get the free T-shirt out of the T-shirt cannon."

That's Monster Jam for you. It transforms curious newcomers into hooting fans, as it will probably do again during Saturday's Monster Jam at Sam Boyd Stadium.

It's beyond entertaining, watching trucks taller than many one-story houses smashing and jumping stuff.

In my family alone, here are the people who loved their first trips to Monster Jam in the past few years:

My physicist dad (who hasn't eaten meat since the 1960s); my mom (who holds a doctorate in early childhood education); my brother (a plumber); his kid (a brown-belt world champ in sparring); and me (one of Fiona Apple's biggest fans).

It's very much a family-oriented event. This includes the daytime "pit party" and barbecue that goes on outside Sam Boyd, before the show.

Adam knows what I'm talking about.

"It's kind of cool to see kids drag their parents into it, and sometimes the parents become a bigger fan than the kids are," he says.

Adam, 26, is part of a legendary monster truck family. He has won the big freestyling award -- driving like a madman, making huge jumps and busting stuff up.

His dad, Dennis Anderson, is the legendary driver of Grave Digger since the early 1980s. And Dennis' other son Ryan drives, too.

This weekend is a Monster Jam family affair. It's the 30th anniversary of Grave Digger. Dennis will drive Grave Digger. Adam will drive Grave Digger The Legend. And Ryan will helm yet another truck.

Monster trucks have come a long way in 30 years. Dennis' first Grave Digger had a $750 paint and body job, Adam says.

"His body for this year now is $12,000 just for the paint on it," he says.

The Anderson family hailed from Virginia, then North Carolina. They still live on the Outer Banks.

When Adam was a kid, he never bragged.

"I didn't think nothin' of it," Adam says. "It was like my dad was a regular dude, like a construction worker. It was just what he did."

Adam's friends found out what his dad did when they visited his house. Adam wanted to go to the playground. His friends wanted to eyeball his dad's trucks.

But one day, Adam got behind the wheel and was bitten by the monster truck bug.

"The first time I ever even jumped cars was in front of 15,000 people, and it's a nervous feeling. Your adrenaline is pumping so hard," he says.

And hearing applause made him feel accepted by monster truck fans.

"It feels so good, it becomes a sickness. Anyone that becomes a driver ... they can't stay out of it."

Last year, on the Sunday after Monster Jam, Adam married his wife, Brianne, on the Strip. His family and friends had flown here. His driver buddies drove over.

They paid a guy who performs mobile ceremonies $150 to meet them at Bellagio.

"We just went out in front of the Bellagio on the sidewalk, and the dude did it right then and there," Adam says.

His wife sometimes travels with him, but she has a normal job.

"She has to take care of me," Adam says. "She's a paramedic, so when I'm home, she checks my vitals for me."

His body's not too torn up, he says. It's just got "a few tweaks."

"It's not specifically hurt. You get beat up in there. You get bruised," he says. "It doesn't hurt until a day or two later, when it really sets in, and then your body aches."

The trucks get the worst of the damage.

"Some people think we have another truck. We don't. If you see that truck crash on Saturday night, we have to have that truck ready by next Friday night."

So crews stockpile all kinds of extra shocks, axles, roll cages and other parts to continually rebuild the behemoths.

If you go this weekend, expect to see many families -- some from Vegas, but others from other states, Canada, Europe and Australia.

"They bring their entire family out to Vegas, stay out here for almost a week, and spend their whole weekend with us, enjoying the show and the pit party. It's crazy," Adam says.

That's for real. The word "crazy" gets overused in pop culture. But Monster Jam is 100 percent insane, in a good and totally mental way.

Doug Elfman's column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. Email him at delfman@reviewjournal.com. He blogs at reviewjournal.com/elfman.