I had never heard of the truck-o-saurus (also called “robo-saurus”) until Betty and I were engaged (or, more rather, un-engaged) slouched in the couch watching the late night news.  An ad for the local county fair came on, with announcements of the big shows scheduled at the conclusion of each day.  As is apparently a must for the average citizen of our enlightened county, there was to be the Monster Truck show — and the grand finale would be the unleashing of the Truck-o-saurus.  A brief film clip showed a large truck, undergoing a Transformer metamorphosis, rising up into a fire-breathing behemoth, crushing smaller trucks and cars.  I didn’t pay it much mind, though I thought that this was a tad more ambitious and unusual for a Monster Truck extravaganza.

It was, I think, 1994 or so, and I had a weekly gig as a late-night DJ at the local college radio station.  Every Thursday at about 8 p.m. I would host a three-hour show, usually playing whatever I felt like, and often playing songs by artists I had no idea who they were or what they did.

I had forgotten about the brief announcement and briefer film clip of the County Fair.

There was nobody after me, and I concluded the broadcast and shut the station down.  I left shortly before midnight.   Traffic was light, virtually nil as I cruised home.  “One never expects the Spanish Inquisition” (Monty Python).

I was passing the county Fair-grounds when I noticed something unusual out of my right eye.  Just then the Truck-O-Saurus stood up, fire blazing from its mouth, fifty or so yards away.  I was completely, utterly, totally … surprised.  Dumbfounded.  My mind short-circuited.

It was a small miracle that I didn’t lose control of the car, wrapping it around the trees in the highway median.


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