Life in the fast lane

Jack Robinson pilots a monster truck in competition

by Daniel J. Fitzgibbons, Chronicle staff

Jack Robinson with his cage cleaning equipment. (Stan Sherer photo)

uring the week, animal care technician Jack Robinson's life is pretty sedate.

     "I care for and observe lab animals," he says. "It's just like taking care of pets at home, except you have hundreds of them."

     But when the weekend rolls around, Robinson is about as far away from filling food dishes and cleaning cages as you can get. That's because he's usually crisscrossing the country as the driver of American Guardian, a 10,000-pound custom-built, monster truck. Careening around dirt-floored arenas or on paved racetracks, cheered by thousands of screaming fans, Robinson pops wheelies, jumps over cars, turns doughnuts and generally gives his wild side full control.
"It's the biggest adrenaline rush you'll ever get," says Robinson, a 30-year-old father of five from Athol who began as a crew member six years ago and graduated to driver last year.

     "I've actually done pretty well," he says. "I was voted most aggressive rookie in 2001."
According to Robinson, competitions for monster trucks include the Thunder Nationals, which are staged outside, and Monster Jams, which involve lots of raging around in tight spaces filled with large, immovable objects.

Jack Robinson's truck hangs in mid-air before toppling on its roof during a monster truck jam in New Haven last year. Robinson works for the Animal Care department.

    "You name it, I've hit it," says Robinson with a smile, "Cars, box trucks, whatever they can find."

     Competitions for monster trucks are uniquely fan-oriented, he says, because three spectators are chosen to act as judges at each event. The judges assign scores for side-by-side racing, wheelies, doughnuts, jumping over obstacles and his personal favorite, a 90-minute freestyle period "where you go out to entertain and go crazy."

     Robinson's vehicle is a 2002 Silverado with a 520-cubic inch, 1,800 horsepower Keith-Black engine that burns ethanol. Owned by Dan Galvis, the police chief in Leyden, the truck stands 12 feet high, in part because of the four 66-inch tires that go for $2,500 each. It also carries a jet engine simulator that shoots flames 25 feet into the air. The whole truck would cost about $135,000 to rebuild, says Robinson, who shares a percentage of the winnings.

     Garaged in Greenfield, the patriotically painted American Guardian is a tribute to several of Galvis' friends who died in Vietnam. Along with a pair of American flags, the truck sports a hand-painted bald eagle.

     Robinson assumed the driving duties in January 2000, but with almost no preparation for actual competition. After a few spins around a sandpit, he was on his way to his first jam in Ohio where a crowd of 60,000 fans wanted some automotive mayhem.

     "I was nervous, so highly pumped up that my thought process was off," recalls Robinson. "I thought, you're about to do something that going to change your whole world."

     "It was my first time jumping cars," he says. "I remember leaving the ground and going, 'Oh boy' and a few other words you can't print. ... You just float free."

     Although it's an extreme sport, Robinson said the promoter stresses safety. His protection includes a five-way harness, helmet and fireproof suit. Even so, he says, "You do take a beating ... you come out feeling like someone kicked your butt."

     By the time his third show rolled around, Robinson was a little more loose. But as his truck soared into the air over a row of parked cars, American Guardian began to flip backward and landed roof down on the battered automobiles. The truck took a beating, but it was a crowd-pleaser: he scored a perfect 30 from the judges.

     "The fans love to see carnage," he says. "One pass'll do it if you do it right."
And there are a lot of fans out there, Robinson says. "Monster trucks have a big following. We get e-mails and mail all the time from people wanting pictures or other stuff."

     For Robinson, the excitement of the crowd feeds his own. "Some guys look at it as stressful, but I think it is the exact opposite. I think it is the best stress reliever there is."