There is no metric by which you can quantify love. You might have a gut feeling that you love someone more than anyone else — perhaps a romantic partner or a family member or an old friend — but how do you measure or demonstrate that? What does ‘more’ even mean in this context? More intensely? More consistently? More encompassingly? More robustly? More lastingly?
Attempting to choose favourites among the people and things you love is nebulous, murky and, ultimately, futile work. To that end, I must ask you: Please, do not make me choose between Bigfoot the Monster Truck and regular Bigfoot (the woodland ape).
Bigfoot the Monster Truck was born in Missouri in 1975 when offroading enthusiast Bob Chandler got very creative with the chassis of 1974 Ford F-250. The pair eventually did their first paid gig together at an automotive show in Denver in 1979. Crushing cars with a giant truck back when that wasn’t even a thing yet, Bigfoot is generally regarded as the first ever monster truck.
Since then, Bigfoot has taken the form of many trucks, in a fashion similar to how the Phantom has taken the form of many humans. Bigfoot has gotten bigger, faster, meaner, and — with the advent of Bigfoot 20 in 2012 — entirely electric and 100% emission-free.
When the other Bigfoot (the Sasquatch) was born is unclear, but I personally believe he arrived on Earth some 25,000 years ago with a mission to carefully guide the growth of human civilisation using his psychic powers and Freddy Krueger–esque dream-entering abilities. Bigfoot spends most of his time wandering the woods, doing massive bong rips, becoming friends with the various woodland creatures that inhabit his home, and staging coups in foreign governments.
I first came to love Bigfoot the Monster Truck in 1999, when I realised that the computers at my primary school had the demo version of the 1996 video game Monster Truck Madness on them for some reason. The demo let you choose from only two trucks: the humble, hardworking Bigfoot, and the flashy, garish Carolina Crusher. While the other kids were sucked in by the showy, colourful nonsense of the Carolina Crusher, I was drawn to Bigfoot — a love affair that has (so far) lasted nearly two decades.
I first became aware of regular Bigfoot the way I imagine a lot of people did: from his baffling entries in the Guinness Book of Records available at my primary school library. Since then I have come to have a much fuller understanding of the beast known as Bigfoot, becoming aware of his spacefaring nature and various diplomatic ties to the alien races that interact with our planet.
As I came to know of them in different ways, so I came to love them in different ways. The love I have for each of them does share some qualities — it is passionate, it is unconditional, and it is quite likely one-sided — but that’s where the similarities end.
My love for Bigfoot the Monster Truck is one predicated on respect, and perhaps even fear. A regular car is dangerous, but an enormous car with wheels as tall as I am? Simply terrifying. A car that can crush other cars is at the very top of the car food chain, commanding an unbelievable amount of respect in both the car and human worlds.
Bigfoot the Monster Truck is a distant figure in my life. I am not nurtured by Bigfoot the Monster Truck, neither in a material sense or in the sense of personal growth. Bigfoot the Monster Truck appears erratically, usually in an explosion of sound and fury; it demolishes cars and then it leaves.
I don’t love Bigfoot the Monster Truck for what it gives me, I love Bigfoot the Monster Truck for what it inspires me to be: Unstoppable, confident, and completely unafraid of the obstacles before it. I may not have four gigantic wheels and a powerful engine, but I can translate Bigfoot the Monster Truck’s personal philosophy into a model for living my own life.
In contrast to the robust, masculine energy of my relationship with Bigfoot the Monster Truck is the warm, feminine energy of my relationship with Bigfoot the Forest Beast.
Bigfoot is a gentle, loving creature. He uses his ancient wisdom and extraordinary psychic gifts to radiate benevolent energy to all human beings and also to influence elections. My love for Cryptid Bigfoot is based largely on gratitude — I am thankful every day that he taught early man how to smoke weed for the first time and also that he is just constantly out there, putting out good vibes.
Is one of these loves more valid than the other? Is one stronger than the other? Even if I could determine that, would I want to interrogate it? While using a mythological creature and a big truck might seem like a nonsense comparison, would anyone want to find out they genuinely love one of their children more than the others?
I must urge you once again: Please, do not make me choose between Bigfoot the Monster Truck and regular Bigfoot.