on both sides, pool coping on one side and
PVC on the other. The surface is so
slippery, we'll call the group skating today.
The Brody Bunch." Host'owner, Jay
Moore had spread the jam news throughout
S. Cal.
The 3 dudes arrived and were fully
amped. The scene looked dead, but
common instinct told them it was merely
unborn. And as soon as you could say.
"Thunder Joe's Market Special on
Cashews," carloads of shady figures
(presumed as skaters) docked at the
curbs.
A fint was sparked as local Don Hamilton
used the ramp's slick surface to the full
extent with infinite slide variations and
untraceable lines (all at speed). The boys
were impressed, so 2 of them stretched
and skated as 1 of them loaded and shot.
The people started to session as "Grinder
John Grigley stalks photographer Dave Omer, slob air
across the channel
Dave Duncan (skating with a wrist cast)
showed some South style shralping with
frontside boneless channel airs, micro-ed-
gers and catch ò' th' day frontside snap-
pers. No sooner did Readi-Eddie Reategui
drop in, to grunt, stunt and blunt his way
into the progressing jam session. The sky
The sky was blue as Eric Zepeda lofted
mute-method airs etc., and Mark
Mundwieler ripped all portions. Some
wondered how Nick Rosenthal and Steve
Dyer felt when they got burly on each run.
John Grigley got contorted all day, and
made a finger-flip invert, while Brigadier
Lance Mountain seemed content to do 3
ft. high McTwists, frontside 50/50 air-ins
and sad plant lay-back airs. It seemed
facetious when coins fell out of pockets and
on to the ramp, and one person yelled,
"Head's up, loose change!" The female
spectators didn't seem to mind Gator's indy
Gator, fast-boosting a stink bug channel hop
alley-oop channel airs or thruster 360
fastplants (Gat-airs). The neighbors loved
Gregor Rankin's chin high method-airs.
Grosso and Lucero showed up, and many
others were skating rippingly to turn a
quiet, humble backyard ramp into a hootin'-
tootin' skate concourse on a regular
Saturday afternoon. Topping the day off
was post-jam video sessioning in the
ramp's club-type house (via an unknown
skate video enthusiast). Their cheeks
rubbed as their eyes strained to catch
each's visage on the 2" x 3" screen.
Meanwhile, the 3 dudes, joined by a
blunting 4th dude, secretly slipped away to
do some post-jam sessioning (on now
relenquished ramp). The sole survivors!
Evening had come and the 3 dude's
hunger was temporarily satiated, for the
time had come to "tap in" elsewhere. And
"tap in" they did as the knowing 4th dude
Cast-iron grip, tail-stall fall, Dave Duncan
accosted the 3 to a Long Beach keggers
partay. Mega-babes, rockin band playing
surf-tunes and Beatles, hey, it was happen-
ing! "We were just leaving Officer, sir,
honest!!," one dude said as Readi-Eddie
sucked down his remains. The on th' town.
type host then led the 3 dudes to infamous
"The Banks which stretched 500 ft. long
with adjoining brick wall sections. There
ain't nothin' like a midnight skate 'n' soak
in an alley. It's similar to a glass of warm
milk before bedtime. But the lack of beds
and the clock's time opted the 4 dudes to
slumber in skid-row fashion.
"Ring...ring...Hello, we've left for the
weekend, please leave your name,
number...etc." The lawn chairs were
aquired, and on a lawn 2 dudes slept while
the other 2 checked in at the Honda Inn.
They woke up at 7:45 a.m. (ala passing
traffic), ate at Eddie's and drove to Har-
rington. It was discovered that Scab Ramp
was no longer skateable. Thanks to the
keen Eric Zepeda for flowing directions to
another nearby ramp structure on the
previous day. They arrived noticed. No
fences were hopped. A session would
soon begin. The half-pipe measured 16 ft.
wide with 8ft. and 5ft. high sections on both
sides, one foot of vert, double decks,
masonite and PVC. Located in a junkyard
next to a chicken farm and in the back of
a gas station, the ramp was reigned by Eric
Zepeda. He showed new hope for sprout-
ing locals. The 3 dudes were again impres-
sed, so 2 of them stretched, one of them
loaded, and they proceeded to do what
they do often and best. One dude described
the scenario, "Sun and Dirt." Another
replied, "Wyatt Earp." A few skating hours
later, as they squeezed remaining drops of
motivation, enough to drive to Carl's Jr. and
scarf.
More freeway. 1000 ft. to the left, some
skate related commotion was sighted on
top of a medium sized hill. They took the
next exit, (coincidentally located near the
hdqts. of a a demised thin-skinned Action
publication), San Juan Capistrano, to lead
them to a 80 ft. in diameter round resevoir.
The locals present, and the curvature of
the 10 ft., 40 degree walls fueled the
newcomers. It even had drop in ramps and
a mini-channel for them to stoke on for a
few. Skating down the dirt hill to load up
equipment and bail, the 3 dudes flashed
back mentally on the preceeding days of
full-fledged, spontaneous, fill it to the brim,
non-stop action. That brought a good
feeling. And the 3 dudes knew that, for
today, their hunger would yield. For tomor-
row, the cycle would sustain.
Mark Rogowski
49