POWER OF OAK IS
ATOMIC BEMS HITS JAPE
Dork Photo No. 1: Joe Bowers.
Bat Mite: creative hop over the bushes at Wallos.
Squid Dickman at the Outlaw Ramp
STOP
Dork Photo Nos. 2 and 3: Joe Bowers
and Bat Mite.
ular marathon sessioning, meaning he
powered move after move after move
relentless rider. Roskopp was absolutely on
top of things, that is, until he slid a splinter
into the cheek of his ass. His four-letter
exclamation of pain pulled back more than
a few neighboring curtains. The visiting
contingencies of riders who were still in the
vicinity after the contest were pressing their
abilities on this ramp. Some dude from An-
nandale was displaying an excellent ap-
titude for these vertical peripheries. Good
backside airs. So everyone's having this
good old time and all of a sudden a black
late model sedan packed full of screaming
bodies comes flying by. The driver
screamed, "No horn! No brakes!" and then
VEHICLES
STOP
PEDESTR
finitely masterpieces. Kevin Dickman, a
skate photographer's nightmare, some-
times known as Squidman, goes for what
he realistically shouldn't make. But he
doesn't let minor details like that bother him.
Oh, and John Dettman, but I already told
you about him.
Anyway, the contest was over and the
sweat was six layers thick on the skin. Then
there was a sticker-throwing session that
frenzied the crowd to no end across the
flatbottom. In the pack I saw Mr. Outlaw,
duking it out with the rest of 'em. Local
legends tell that they don't get to do too
much thrashing in these here parts, so they
make the most of it when the opportunity
arises. Bands are infrequent to this area.
Hmmm, a thrash-starved community. A
place where thrashing is a blessing?
Well, here it was, Saturday evening.
sweating like a slug with malaria and my
fight out of this paradise wasn't until Mon-
day. Luckily, Roskopp approached with a
plan. The call was to infiltrate Knoxville,
hahg loose in the evening, sip a few cold
ones, and then go session Joe Bowers'
ramp tomorrow. This kind of work is gonna
kill me. My course took me along with Bat
Mite character. He lived in Knoxville, right
close to the University. That tells you right
there what kind of town it'll be, uncultured
young minds, still with a little high school
behind the ears. We went to some college,
late night meat-rack establishment,
examined the selection and then put
Thrasher stickers on the rumps of choice,
as well as stickering up the whole place. A
few of our entourage were forecefully, but
politely asked to stop slam-dancing. What
do people expect when the D.J. played the
D.K.'s Too Drunk to Fuck" song to a mixed
audience? Something's bound to happen.
After a snore session on Bat Mite's
couch, with an electric fan on full blast for
slightly an attempt effect of comfort, we set
out towards Joe Bowers' house via a stop
at a nearby ditch dubbed "Tenn. Wallos."
Our caravan consisted of Sean Bates, his
sister, Dick Squidman and some other
squid, Bat Mite and myself in or vehicle.
Dork Photo No. 4: Joe Bowers, Doug Walker and
lump of coal.
Britt Parrott at Joe Bowers' ramp
Wallos is a cool ditch with three to four foot
walls and some extension ramps for added
fun, Bat Mite has this place wired the most.
Ollies off the ramp to the ditch lip, then
some footplants over bushes and grinding
over my toes while I tried to take a picture.
We ended that session quickly and
steered our butts out to Joe Bowers'. There
I was a session already in progress by the
time we arrived. McGill was doing his reg-
Annandale local during the competition.
R VIEW
CLUB
COON
Dork Photo Nos. 6, 7 and 8:
Bowers, Bat Mite and Walker
blending in at the Museum of
Science and Energy
Dork Photo No. 5: Joe Bowers.
ON
Sean Bates at Wallos