Hard Rock Farm crew makes demo derby a family affair

One group's love for the demo derby spreads through the community

MOSES LAKE — The cars look like they're straight off of a how-not-to-drive training video. They may be missing bumpers, windows or trunks, but as long as there are wheels and an engine, it's perfect for the demolition derby.

"How often do you drive down the road and see some jerk you just want to bump off?" asked Rodney Rosin before the derby, which ran Wednesday night at the Grant County Fairgrounds.

Rodney is a member of the Hard Rock Farm, a demolition derby tradition that began nearly 15 years ago with Vern Hellewell and his three sons. The two oldest boys were asked by a friend to help build and repair a car for the derby. In the midst of sparks and energy flying, the derby bug bit and the boys were determined to enter the demo derby as soon as they got their licenses.

They called themselves the Hard Rock Farm, which they proudly displayed on matching black and yellow T-shirts and across the bodies of their cars. The cars were named after the excrutiatingly stubborn rocks which needed to be pulled from the ground in order to farm on the Hellwells' land.

Years later, the tradition has grown, involving more than 20 friends, family, neighbors and whoever else shares the passion for smashing. Three generations of friends and family get together to tinker, repair and refine dozens of cars each year.

Vern said that since the Hard Rock Farm started, the group has gone through nearly 200 cars. Some are donated, others bought for a mere $200. The parts are reused when possible.

Vern says that when looking for the best possible derby car, the older, the better "because it's real steel, not a pop can." Tracey Cassman, a friend of Vern, admitted that working on the cars isn't always enjoyable but the thrill of racing it is well worth it.

The week before the race, the men gathered to fine tune the cars and put the final touches on the steel boxes on wheels, the only barrier between them and the vehicles trying to run their car into the ground. The last car moving receives the $1,000 cash prize, but the excitement seems to be focused on the rush of adrenalin the men get from racing, then demolishing the cars.

"There's not a day that goes by in the year when you're not looking for a car," Rodney said.

Adrenaline is pumping and spirits are high on the day of the derby. With boyish grins, the men work diligently on their cars, wrapping up the hours they spent in the shop for a few minutes racing around the track.

"I'm just ready to go, to hit someone," said Brett Hellewell.

Not an empty seat remains in the stands as the patient crowd waits for 105 cars to time in. Then, the audience anxiously cheers on the start of the heat races. Young Morgan (Bubba) Rosin favors the races because "my dad kicks butt at it."

The Hard Rock Farm has much support from family and friends as the stands are littered with black and yellow shirts displaying the group's signature picture: a man standing atop a large rock, blasting it with TNT.

Six cars line up two by two. After a trial lap, they're off. Some spin out, some catch on fire, others just flat out die on the track. The audience gasps as cars collide and the announcer excitingly yells, "Yep, that's what you're here to see."

When the race finishes, many cars are towed or fork-lifted off the muddied field.

Then the women get their chance to show they're just as vicious as the boys. The Powder Puff races begin after the announcers run out of every women driving joke they can think of.

Sandy Millican had raced since the 1970s, but quit when her son Del Wade was born. When Del joined the Hard Rock Farm group, Sandy was enticed back into it.

She says seconds before the race, the adrenaline is pumping as she waits for the green flag to be waved. The Power Puffs prove that they can handle the heat just as well as the men.

"I've been hit pretty hard, but I've hit people pretty hard too," Sandy.

Although all are intent on being the last car running, the Hard Rock Farm group says they look out for each other on the field.

"We try not to hit each other, but it gets dusty out there," said Rodney.

The fans count down with the announcer, then it's go time. The cars slam their gas and fly backwards, smashing into whoever happens to be in their way. Some cars take seconds to die, others struggle around the track looking for someone to smash into.

As the cars smash into each other, parts fly, trunks crunch into backseats and tires bounce around like balls on a playground, but the drivers won't stop until their car dies — and even then, they are reluctant to acknowledge defeat.

The announcer yells over and over again to the drivers, "Pull your stick," indicating the car is done, but the drivers desperately fiddle with the key, knowing that their time on the track was too short for such a build-up.

The last standing Hard Rock Farm car was Del Wade's, with bowling pins affixed to the top, which he joked wouldn't fall off "unless somebody bowled a strike." Although he struggled to get it running, the car had been through enough derbies to know when to throw in the towel.

The Hard Rock Farm team didn't win any prizes Wednesday night, but they went out with vigor and zeal. After months of searching for the perfect car, weeks preparing the vehicles and precious minutes on the track … it ends. And they will be there next year to do it all over again.

Vern says that the height of the derby is before the rush and excitement, before the stands are packed with screaming fans. It's in the garage, standing over parts and car bodies, talking with his friends and family who take time off work each year to assemble cars and honor the long standing tradition of the Hard Rock Farm.