skate of mind

I Went to the skatepark at lunch—nice sunny day here, even though it’s a little chilly. Couple of other guys showed up and skated around for awhile, plus the hot skater girl (HSG). The following is actually about four or five different conversations, condensed for your reading pleasure. M is me, of course.

HSG: Dude, what’s up?
M: Not much, what’s up with you?
HSG: This is crazy man, skating in December!
M: Yeah, this is kind of nice.
HSG: You go to State U.?
M: Um, like twelve years ago . . .
HSG: Oh sweet! What are you still doing in Collegetown?
M: Living, raising my kids.
HSG: What was your major, dude?
M: Journalism.
HSG: Cool—who do you write for?
M: I write for myself—my job has nothing to do with my major. I leech off the state.
HSG: That’s awesome, man. My brother used to be in the Marine Corps, government jobs are cool.
M: Yeah, sure.
HSG: State U. has so many good skaters, man. They should have their own skate team. There’s a whole crew of skaters over at those dorms down the road there and they just rip the shite outta this park.
M: Varsity Skateboarding? I’d be done for that.
HSG: I love this park, man, its good really good flow. It’s just a killer park.
M: Wish it had lights.
HSG: That would be sweet. The city probably doesn’t want to pay for it, though.
M: It’s the perfect spot for it, though—no neighbors at all, it’s not like it would bug anyone.
HSG: Yeah, but they spend the money to light the stupid tennis court and baseball diamond.
M: And the empty parking lots.
HSG: Yeah, that too.
M: You ever get that rail grind figured out? When was it that we skated together, August?
HSG: No, not yet, still can’t get the landing. My ollies are high enough, but I just can’t seem to stay on the rail. Don’t remember when that was, it was a heck of a lot warmer, though whenever it was.
M: I almost got that board slide down.
HSG: Figures. I try a million times and you come over and get it after ten tries.
M: Total fluke. I still can’t kick-flip.
HSG: Not with that big boat you’re riding, what is that, like ten inches?
M: Nine-and-a-half at the widest. I like the crazy concave.
HSG: Looks like it would be fun to ride, not sure if I could handle something so big.
M: Is that your skate key laying over there?
HSG: Skate-wha . . . ?
M: Skate key.
HSG: Key?
M: You know, skate tool.
HSG: Oh, tool-no I didn’t bring a tool with me. You want it?
M: I got like three of them now. One for each of the skaters in my family, which is cool. We gotta generational thing going on here. Different times, different terms. We used to always call it a key.
HSG: I hope my kids skate—when I have kids, you know? I mean they can play football or whatever, but they gotta skate too.
M: Yep, that’s the way to do it. Where you from?
HSG: Brighton Hill.
M: So you snowboard then?
HSG: Oh yeah. My folks live within site of the ski resort. It used to suck waking up on a snowy morning knowing you had to wait until after school to go shred.
M: Isn’t there an indoor joint across from the high school?
HSG: Yeah—the Lighthouse—it’s alright. Back in the day it used to be this underground kind of set-up in the parking lot, but then they put it inside this building and started charging money and everything went to shite. All the good skaters left town it seems.
M: It’s not worth skating?
HSG: Well . . . it’s mostly vert, dude. They got this half-pipe to spine thingy and then a bunch of quarters. They do have a sweet mini though, if you like skating minis.
M: How the heck do you get so high up on your carves?
HSG: Well dude, I just really hit that box thing in the middle really hard like, and then when I hit the wall I just kinda push my ankles up as high as I can.
M: Push your ankles up? Waddya mean?
HSG: I can usually grind on the top there, but my shoes are all janky cuz I need new shoes, but I could probably grind on the top right now if it weren’t for the shoes.
M: Do you pump right before the wall or what?
HSG: Dude, you just gotta go for it, man—just kick those ankles up that wall and let it rip. You’re goofy foot right? Hit it from the right side there but make sure you take it wide—and just go for it.
M: Your lines seem way tighter than mine—you hit the wall a good twelve inches further in than me. Am I losing height because I’m going too wide? You’re almost to the lip and I’m a foot or so shy of it.
HSG: I dunno, maybe. You really just gotta feel it out. You need more speed for one thing. I love this roundwall, though, you can’t find many of these anywhere. On a good day I can grind the lip and do an axle stall and drop back in.
M: That’s all I’m asking for—just want to grind the lip . . .
HSG: You’ll get there, just keep hitting the wall and keep working on getting higher and higher.
M: Lunchtime’s over—gotta jet—see you around.
HSG: Yeah, take it easy—maybe I’ll see you at Brighton Hill.
M: Yeah, look for me—I’ll be the guy tumbling down the hill.
HSG: (Smiles)
M: (Waves as he wanders off to his car)