In a massive underground hangar, deep in the bowels of ANZ stadium, 10 monster trucks are being tended to by their pit crews. They’re being prepared for the Sydney leg of the Monster Jam tour, the world’s biggest monster truck rally, and everything needs to be perfect. Standing more than three metres tall and weighing upwards of four-and-a-half tonnes, the trucks are a blend of raw power and carnival kitsch. Pirate’s Curse sports a hook on the side and a skull-and-crossbones on the hood, a giant plastic sword clenched between its teeth. Zombie features bloodshot eyes, a pair of ominously reaching arms and a mop of dank grey hair made out of what appears to be shag carpet. A team of mechanics adjust the immense shock absorbers on El Toro Loco, a bull-themed truck with fibreglass horns and a nose ring.
The monster trucks underneath ANZ stadium the day before the Sydney show.
Escorted by their parents, around a dozen kids are led into the pen and immediately lose their minds. Several make a beeline for Tom Meents and his truck Maximum Destruction, or Max-D, a spike-covered beast that wouldn’t be out of place in a George Miller movie.
Clockwise from top: Megalodon, Zombie, and fans meeting the drivers.
One of the sport’s leading lights, Meents has been driving monster trucks for more than 25 years. Besides 11 Monster Jam world championships, Meents has pulled off some of the sport’s most memorable milestones. In October 2014, he became the first monster truck driver to pull off a double backflip. In June 2015, he one-upped himself by successfully completing a front flip. In 2005, he dragged his old house into the middle of a field, jumped Max-D over it, then drove straight through it.
Tom Meents
“When I turned 16 and got my licence, I started putting bigger and bigger tyres on my street truck and began competing with that,” Meents says. “I honestly don’t know what else I’d be doing. Doing crazy, never-before-seen stunts, that’s what lights my fire. I feel like I was put on this earth to drive and work on monster trucks. I’m doing exactly what I wanna do.”
Brisbane’s Rhianna Buchanan helps six-year-old Cooper scramble up the inside of her truck’s frame so he can sit in the cab. A professional stuntwoman and performer with freestyle motorcycle troupe Flair Riders, Buchanan made her debut as a driver in October 2017 after graduating from Monster Jam university, an institute set up by Meents in his home town of Paxton, Illinois, to train the next generation. With her truck Wonder Woman, complete with a light-up Lasso of Truth on the back, Buchanan is one of a growing number of female drivers looking to turn little girls’ love of big trucks into greater participation in the sport.
Rhianna Buchanan
“She stands for strength, boldness, fighting for victory. I drive her with those characteristics in mind,” Buchanan says. “Monster trucks turn everyone into that seven-year-old kid again.”
Coty Saucier has driven the Monster Energy truck since 2014, but his love for monster trucks goes back much further. A self-described “gearhead”, he’s spent more time working on the trucks as a mechanic than behind the wheel.
Coty Saucier
“I’ve wanted to do this since I was in diapers. The adrenaline rush is incredible. It’s like getting ready to jump off the edge of a cliff,” Saucier says. “You have to be at one with the truck. I spend a lot of time before each show making sure all my stuff is right. I like to walk out on the track before a show, feel the soil, the angles of the ramps. All my gear has to go on in order – head sock, helmet, right glove, left glove. It’s superstition, I guess.”
Jeff Sinn is Saucier’s best friend and longtime mechanic. Their bond is more than professional – Saucier is marrying Sinn’s sister, Kelly, in November. It adds an extra layer to a job that is already high stakes, time sensitive and fiendishly complex. “It’s all solving problems very fast. A truck will go out, something will break, and you gotta figure out what it is,” Jeff says. “You might think you’ve seen something before, but the truck throws up something new all the time. And all this with an audience and a very short amount of time to get it done. You maybe have 10, 15 minutes to diagnose what’s wrong, disassemble and repair. We call it ‘thrash mode’.”
Coty Saucier driving the Monster Energy truck.
Sinn rates Saucier’s background in mechanics as an invaluable asset in keeping the truck operational and the driver safe. As the trucks have become safer and more advanced, drivers have begun attempting stunts and manoeuvres considered fantasy not long ago. “It helps more than people know. Some drivers just say ‘I dunno, the truck’s broke’, but nine times out of 10, he can tell me what’s broke and where it’s broke at, so I know where to go,” he says. “Drivers are doing things in warm-up now that they couldn’t do at all 10 years ago. The technology’s come so far in such a short time, it’s changed what’s possible. It’s made the drivers hungry.”
Clockwise from top: Oliver Rose, 6, and fans lining up to get a photo in front of the grave digger truck.
Despite flashes of heavy rain, the fans turn out in droves for the Party in the Pit, Monster Jam’s pre-show meet-and-greet. The trucks are on display in the stadium forecourt, propped up theatrically on paddock bashers. As part of Monster Jam’s family friendly image, drivers will typically spend upwards of two hours signing autographs and getting photos before retiring to prepare for the show.
Romeo and Marcus Cuizon in front of the zombie truck, and plastic novelty mugs.
From the commentators to the oversized novelty mugs, it’s all aggressively American. Even the soundtrack is pure southern country, full of men pining for girls who feel like Carolina. Inside, the turf of ANZ stadium has been covered with plywood, protective plastic and tonnes of dirt, which teams of bulldozers coax into ramps and piles. It looks like WestConnex.
It’s hard to make ANZ Stadium feel full, but even with the first dozen rows of seats cordoned off for safety’s sake the crowd dwarfs all but the biggest domestic sporting events. A low rumble from underneath the stands draws a flock of delirious kids to the entrance tunnel, where they practically stick their heads through the safety bars to glimpse the trucks warming up.
Young boys lean over the barrier to get a glimpse of the trucks before they drive on to the grounds.
When the trucks roar out into the arena, the air fills instantly with the smell of burning fuel. The noise is Biblical. The kids who aren’t shellshocked by the din of the trucks scream at pitches high enough to alert dogs. The truck’s meticulous paint jobs are lost under a thick coating of mud.
Besides the headline stunts and big jumps near the end of the show, the main attraction is that great Australian pastime: the doughie. Many drivers falter during the doughnut competition, committing errors of form or commitment that leave the crowd cold. Megalodon, a shark-themed truck, spins wildly on its side before coming to rest nearly upside down, the shark’s face pressed sadly into the dirt. Bulldozers are dispatched to right it.
Clockwise from top: The moment Megalodon turned upside down. A fan watches on.
But Meents is sublime, spinning Max-D so fast it seems impossible he’ll stay upright. Awarded a near-perfect score by the crowd-driven judging system, he grins wildly, pumping his fist to the fans.
“Spinnin’ and grinnin’! What a blast.”
