Skateboarding has been hitting my personal que smooth like Swiss bearings. Thoughts arise of ponying up for a wooden deck with black grip tape and polyurethane wheels to cruise the concourse of the streets. It’s amazing how the landscape is transformed through the eyes of the skater with possibilities presenting themselves along a routine route. A small set of stairs which never presented a challenge or a feeling of accomplishment now beg to differ. A hard pop and snap of the tail forces reaction as the knees pull up toward the chest and a human being finds the gaps between the gravity.
The call to skate hit me in the late 80’s with the sport surging in pop culture. I remember my nana buying me a small plastic blue with red wheels board at Toy’s R Us but my first big boy deck was a G&S. The nose was like a shovel and the sides had humps for easier carving. The graphic was a woman riding a nuclear bomb on a red background. I skated everyday after school from one side of the street to the other learning how to ollie. It must have taken a year, but why did I have such a desire?
Delving into the deep dive of 2nd and 3rd grade aged boy I suppose there was a sense of freedom in having transportation that also provided a sense of self. One that helped identify who I thought I was though an expression that was not that common. We used to drive 45min away to a skatepark in 1995 that consisted of a launch ramp, 4ft half, and box on very little square footage just to experience certain features that enhanced the session. A skate sesh that exemplified our strengths and battle scars of bruises, cuts, and aches demonstrating our resolve in the face of consist failure; but we continued anyhow.
Speaking with a childhood friend yesterday I reminded him I how I loved to watch him ollie and kickflip, it was clean. These were not my bread and butter but everyone possessed a unique touch. Some guys were super technical before it transformed into Tony Hawk PlayStation mode today and others would skate with fury, and angst against the concrete and the world. Witnessing some grind curbs with speed and ferocity as trucks sparked and sounded the alarm was breathtaking. But the environment was ever changing to expand our status in an individual sport that was more community.
Recalling all the skirmishes teenage boys with skateboards encountered from parents, police, priests, business owners, and neighbors I can’t remember an instance where it was skater against skater. I guess since we took so much shit from others there was a bond that couldn’t be fucked with, a brother in arms sort of thing. Age didn’t matter, the only thing that did was you showed up and participated.
Seems easy but it takes balls to go at it alone against gravity as the group relentlessly pursues an obstacle with their grace, if they can find it. As with any sport when you feel it, you feel it but skateboarding challenges the mind as well as the body. Another spill doesn’t hurt the wrists as much as the thought of ‘almost’ clammers. These can be overcome as I witnessed what I would later learn was the 100-monkey theory after school on a winter day.
We all were struggling to kickflip and this guy’s little brother in a Green Bay Packers winter coat caught the board securely and road in triumph over the salted streets of Ohio. The very next day all of us completed this task! Monkey see, monkey do. But amongst tricks that we added to the repour growth was also seen in relationships of circumstance.
Growing up in what we labeled the ‘Scum House,’ by city hall, in all its brown glory of a Browns town occupied by at least two 21yr olds had refuge for a rebellious teen. Influenced by such movies as Kids the pad was equipped with a trophy shelf of 40’s, que The Game ‘Ol English.’ Being accepted by the older crowd had its ups and down’s but there was always advancement presented, especially when taken to downtown Cleveland to skate Public Square at night, big city lights and marble. In addition to the makeup of humanity, who find themselves exposed to the elements a young person got a view that was hidden.
As in all the videos I saw of encounters of the homeless with skaters there was always love. Never did I feel threatened or not having the courage to be myself. I suppose when one is yelled at, chased, and looked down on by most of society an acceptance from what most would frown upon came without effort. They cheered us on and enjoyed the comradery of outcasts. We talked to them as hosts per se because that was their territory so to speak and we were welcomed as equals.
When your head is in the clouds it can be found again in a pair of vans, pushing at top speeds to feel exhilarating cheap thrills that seem dormant but are awakened in an instance. Skateboarding opened doors and a paved a path of waxed curbs, chilling with a Dairyman’s iced tea, and a divergent of personalities. I don’t think I would want to do it any different. In fact, I want to rekindle the candle, that is if the aged man today can know his limitations. I’ll relate to the gym, “I just want a good pump, pop, and satisfaction that comes with something so simple.”
Let’s go skate.
