I love that St. Louis doesn't want to be any other city. St. Louis moves at its own pace. We've got inertia from all of the bricks. And we're doing just fine thank you. We don't need the beaches or the mountains or the high rent. Everything here is dirt cheap and the people are fun. That's almost everything.
And there is history. And weather. And a beautiful city. Big trees. And on top of all that, the cherry on top, is that St. Louis County is full of cool shit too.
Ever hear of Castlewood State Park? Ever been swimming there at dawn? Have you ever been inside the Carl Donnelson Motorcycle Museum? Did you know that Bigfoot lives in North County? He's got a sick van in his driveway.
Yes, St. Louis is the home of the Original Monster Truck. This can not be oversold. Put Bigfoot in your St. Louis hall of fame. He's already in the Missouri Sports Hall of Fame.* Without Bigfoot the mural on the side of Grave Digger would never have been painted. We never would have walked in through the fire exit of the TWA Dome on a cold winter night and drank whiskey in the upper deck while Maximum Destruction tore itself to shreds for our amusement. There would be no Monster Jam. The world would be worse.
Thankfully Bigfoot is real. Real and a sterling representative of the St. Louis spirit. Backyard ambition.
It's no wonder this thing got printed on pillow cases and bedsheets for suburban bunk beds. Any kid with half a brain would give up candy for a month to sleep atop this beauty. Imagine their dreams. Now look at those wheels. They came off of an Arctic Train used by the US military in the 1950's. Cold War tires. How is that for provenance?
Bigfoot was the first truck to drive over a car. Bigfoot jumped over a jumbo jet. Bigfoot is the older bother to the world's sickest Ford Aerostar Van, the one with tank tracks. His semi truck has a killer paint job. Bigfoot has a machine that puts his likeness on a souvenir penny.
The American Dream. In St. Louis you don't have to wake up from it.
* So is my Grandpa.
