young man's beast.' but he's older now. Surely
times have changed him. Or have they?
I looked behind the television set where the
alarm clock now lay resting on one side. 7:30.
No time to waste, got to head out now. I whipped
into the main room and reeled back when faced
with the grim realities of the weekend.
There were kneepads, helmets, skateboards
and bodies everywhere, I had to resort to
standard military wake-up manuevers just like
when I was back in 'Nam.
I strolled over to the nearest body, and kicked
it in the side.
"Get up," I said.
"Nuunng."
"Get up, I said. "I kicked again, then reclaimed
all of my blankets and pillows, chucked them
into my room and screamed, "We're leaving in
two minutes!
"Give us a break."
"No way, haul butt, or you get left."
I waited in the truck for the juvenile passen
gers. Christian Hosol and Bill Ruff hopped in
and slammed the door. "Let's go," they said.
"Where's the rest of those bodies?"
Christian and Bill looked at each other with sly
grins. "Oh, they had to leave."
"Yeah, the tall one, she had to be at work at
eight thirty."
"SHE?
I looked at the two guilty looking individuals,
started the engine, put it in first and took off.
"You know you guys are a little too young to be
having that much fun."
The airport was not very crowded and
Christian went inside to fetch Jay.
Upon returning, Billy hopped in back as Jay
shoved Christian in and plopped himself in the
revered shotgun position. "Hey, what's
happening? Let's skate, I wanna skate. Where
are we gonna skate?"
We eased out onto 101 heading south. "We're
going to San Jose," I told him.
"San Jose? What is there in San Jose?"
"You'll see."
Jay pointed out over the dash towards a
distant point and then reached around grabbing
Christian in a standard headlock, and proceeded
to apply the intense noogies.
26
Clockwise from left:
Steve flies over Bill at
the demo ramp.
Christian Hosol,
layback at "The Bricks,"
San Jose. At the
Kosher Bowl, Jay
checks out Steve's spit
gutter frontside
lapovers. Jay Adams,
the low backside
snap-gnarler.
Half an hour later, we were on the outskirts of
San Jo
Glancing in the rear view mirror, I could see
Ruff bopping to the tunes of theWalkman I had
provided to keep him from hating life. Hating life
is the perfect description for Christian's
predicament. At least every five miles, Jay
would deliver the gnarly noogies. He worked on
one spot continuously until eventually the hair
began to rise.
We passed through the intersection of King
and Story, infamous for its weekend Lowrider
activity. Jay looked around, settled back in his
seat and felt at home; Billy looked nervous;
Christian tried to flatten the upstart tuft of hair
caused by Jay's knuckle-like noogies; and I
rolled down the window because someone had
either eggs or beans for breakfast.
We pulled up beneath a tree. "We're here."
"Where?"
"What we do, skate the sidewalks?"
"Just follow me, and shut up," I said.
They grabbed all of their gear, I grabbed my
camera and we crossed the street. We
approached a house. It was a small house,
unassuming, blending in with the rest of the
neighborhood. We passed through a gate that
was off to one side of the house and encoun-
tered a small male child playing with a toy dump
truck
"Where's Steve?" I asked him.
He looked up at the motley entourage, his
eyes widened at our strangeness. Planting his
foot in the till-bed of the Tonka truck, he spun
around and sped towards the backyard. "Uncle
Stephen!
We followed the boy. Rounding the corner, we
were faced with It.
Occupying a major portion of the backyard
was a large, full scale half-pipe. Bill and
Christian began to slip into their safety equip
ment. Jay, with board in hand, ran up one of the
transitional walls, hopped on and began
gyrating his way higher and higher up the walls.
This ramp is so big," he said, as he wailed a
quick backsider lap-over snap gnarler. The kind
he's always been famous for.
Steve came out, his helmet flashing as he
entered the sunlight.
"What's up guys?" he said.
Christian snapped his chin strap, "We came to
session.
And for the next hour, four of some of the top
names in skateboarding's past and present
sessioned agilely, and with an aggressive
hunger.
Christian flailed about effortlessly. His
expressions at critical points, in certain radical
manuevers, were extremely calm. It was as
though his mind was elsewhere. Maybe it was
Palmdale.
Christian continued to blaze in an endless
way. A crazy relaxed Hawaiian, and he's not
afraid to let his skating do practically all of his
talking. He slashed some mean lien and 3
and 4 foot backside airs. On one, as I was
beneath him, angling in for a clean shot, the little
jerk bailed sending the board flying into the
camera lens and my head. I'm sure! It's kinda
hard to dodge those flying decks when you're
straddled 10 ft. off the ground between a fence
and a ramp. Besides that, the fuggin' lens cost
$600 bucks and it wasn't even mine. I told my
fashion photographer friend I was going to take
pictures inside a shopping mall. He'll bum when
he sees the big grip tape mark on the lens
shield, and he'll really suspect something when
he sees the big bruise shaped like the back of a
camera across my nose and forehead.
Bill, Steve, and Christian, were matching
each other for height on airs. Jay and I stood
back in amazement. It was only the beginning of
an expression session that was to last the rest of
the day and well into the next.
"So you guys down here for that demo?"
Steve asked, finishing off hairballing a very
sketchy hang-up after a prolonged stalled
handplant.
"What demo?" answered his guests.
Apparently there was a travelling half-pipe in
the area with a demo team of BMXers and
skateboarders. It was on the other side of town
in a shopping center parking lot.
We decided to give it a try.
As we were heading out front, a small car
pulled up. It was Ramsay,
We caravanned across town towards the
alleged demo in the alleged shopping center
parking Lot. It might as well have been on the
other side of this free country of ours because
nobody had a clue as to exactly where it was.
We travelled down one boulevard. Steve said
that someone told him it was on this approximate
street. Actually, after some intensely quick
thinking, reacting and questioning on my part, I
determined the exact location of the still-alleged
demo, which turned out to be on the next
boulevard over and 5 miles in the opposite
direction we were travelling. "Some locals."
We drove up to a large,dispersing crowd. The
last demo of the day has just finished.
There was a big bright sun out that day.
saturating the valley with rays of 80 heat. A
change of pace from all of that liquid this area
has been experiencing the last few months.
Expecting nothing I faced the sun. It felt good.
In fact, almost too good."
The elitists sauntered up to the ramp with
easy authority. The first good day in years, and
I'm stuck chauffeuring around a truckload of the
most extraordinarily unconventional and
athletic, juvenile delinquents in the known world.
A delicately warm and textured breeze teased
and pummeled me in its playful course.
Well, I guess this beats standing around in a
trenchcoat on some cold city street corner.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, may I
have your attention please," came a voice from
the demo P.A. system.
The Pro skaters we've been expecting all day
long have finally arrived. It seems they had a
little problem with directions."
Expecting! We only decided to come here
just twenty minutes ago.
They are going to skate for us and show how
it's really done," the voice continued, "these are
some of the best skaters in the world. They are
up here for the big street contest being held in
San Francisco tomorrow. And here is Steve
Caballero. That's a backside air he just did and
there's a handplant. Next rider is Jay Adams
Jay is one of the old timers of skateboarding.
Heck, I remember way back when...