SUBURBAN MOMS CLIMB MONSTER TRUCK RANKS WITH SUV SKILLS STAFFORD SPRINGS, Connecticut. Tori Carrington is a mother of three with a black labrador retriever named "Boots" and a pick-up and drop-off schedule that reads like a cab dispatcher's log. "I've got so much stuff to haul around town, there's no way I could handle it with a car," she says as she slams the rear door of her Chevy Suburban on six bags of groceries and her daughter Amanda's finger. 
The same is true for Mindy Michaels, who lives next door. "We bought the Expedition because we needed the space for all our kids' junk," she says as she wrangles her son Jason's mountain bike and her daughter Ellie's vaulting poles and javelins into the super-sized Ford SUV.
Tori and Mindy are both ranked in the top ten of the Monster Jam Points Series as the season winds down with an event at Stafford Motor Speedway in this leafy Connecticut suburb, the American Express Super Modified Monster Mayhem Weekend. As monster truck racing has previously been an all-male preserve, the two stand our for reasons more obvious than their Ann Taylor sweaters and pearl necklaces. 
"We see soccer moms as the next big wave in professional Monster Truck racing," says Amex's James Saltonstall, III. "Sort of like Michelle Wie and Annika Sorenstam on the PGA Tour. It's a very affluent target audience with tremendous upside potential because right now they're all watching Martha Stewart and Meredith Viera on The View."
That sentiment isn't necessarily shared by Monster Truck veterans such as Duane "Bug Juice Johnson of Warrensburg, Missouri. "I don't have anything against women drivers in general, but those two are kind of aggressive on a Chicago-style track," he says. "Also, their back porches are a little skimpy for my tastes."
But Tori and Mindy say they won't let hidebound prejudice stand in their way as they line up for the qualifying heat of the Super-Modified division in which they compete. "I work out four days a week with a personal trainer so I can fit into size 6 capri pants," she says with uncharacteristic firmness. "I'm not going to take fashion tips from some Midwestern hilljack who doesn't have an MBA."
As the women maneuver their SUV's into position they can look down the starting line at snarling 800 horsepower behemoths with names like "Grave Digger", "The Avenger" and "Wild Thang" painted on their sides. Tori thought about adopting une nomme du monster chariot, but decided against it. "My parents always taught me not to call undue attention to myself," and indeed her Suburban is a muted forest green in contrast to the bright reds, oranges and yellows of some of her male competitors.
Mom and Dad.
The announcer counts down from "Drivers Ready", to "Get Set", and then screams "Go!" over the public address system, sending the vehicles scrambling around the short track with dirt-mound jumps. Tori and Mindi are inveterate cell phone uses--"It's attached to my ear!" Mindi admits--and Tori calls her friend as soon as they take their places in the pack. 
"Hi there," says Tori. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"
"No," Mindi replies. "I'm going over a jump in a minute so I may lose coverage."
Mindi scales the dirt mound and her Expedition goes flying, landing on the bed of Bug Juice Johnson's "Eradicator".
"Nice air, Mindi!" Tori says with admiration.
"Thanks. I've been working on my technique in the Lord & Taylor parking lot."
"How ca
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