TALES
IALES
FROM THE STREET
Barb Fanney
GARAGE TALE
T
26
hrust screaming into the world, I grasped every breath with
my little blue fists. I fought for air and wouldn't calm down
for days. That's the way it all started. Wheels are rolling
now like smooth water. Concrete slips past my little wood
and polyurethane island.
I'm crouched so my head doesn't come apart on the low
concrete beams. Less wind resistance that way too. Tall enough as it is,
three extra inches of board makes me tower. I glide over a patch of
textured concrete. The little grooves running perpendicular to my flight
path pluck a note from my board that I can feel in my body. The noise
echoes down the ramp then stops abruptly as I return to porcelain smooth
concrete.
Carving around the turn, sensing my own acceleration vector, I will
my body to lean almost imperceptibly. Three more stories of vacant
parking ramp to go, I am jolted back to reality by the sound of a car
starting. At this hour that means only one thing. Garage grunts, parking
pigs! You've no doubt encountered the species. Maniacal little men who
couldn't pass the police psychological exam. Third-stringers that the cops
wouldn't even take. They've got a club, a radio and all kinds of other
S&M bondage stuff hanging off their belts, and a .44 magnum revolver
stuffed next to a bottle of Wild Turkey in the glove compartment. Not
wanting another nasty encounter, I throw back a gloved hand and twist
into a frontside 4-wheel slide which lands me next to a set of stairs. I
wait inside the stairwell, catching my breath as the unseen vehicle cruises
past and down the ramp.
Sensing a clear coast, the anticipation of more concrete intimacy pushes
me out of the stairs. I am just reaching speed when my eyes detect the
presence of a dark form by the next pillar. I slow down and stop in front
of something blue, something shiny, something mean. His face shows a
look of astonishment that I've seen before. Expecting to eject some
ten-year-old skate rat from his petty little kingdom, the unsuspecting
rent-a-cop instead finds ME looming down on him. It usually makes them
even madder. This one looks like a retarded pit bull on PCP.
"Uh, hi. I was just on my way out."
"Dew yew know this hee-yur is private property?"
"Well, I guess I figured it belonged to somebody."
"Yew wait right they-ur and don't move."
The grunt starts toward his blue Plymouth parked across the ramp and
blocking my escape. My only option is just a few feet away. In slow mo-
tion I see myself push off, roll out, and heave my board over the narrow,
three-story chasm separating the inbound cars from those going home.
After dropping through what seems like ten feet of air, my wheels
finally smack the surface of the up ramp. To catch me now, the guard will
have to drive back up to the next parking level and come down the wrong
way. I've got a 2 story head-start on him and my wheels are rolling again.
The last part is my favorite. The exit ramp is painted glossy gray and
spirals radically down to the street. Ducking a barricade, I zoom scream-
ing back into the night world. a perfectly timed, late night city bus rolls to
a stop in front of me. I hop on and dig out some change as the door sucks
shut behind, Hefting my plywood projectile to the back of the bus, I look.
out the rear window in time to see a big blue Plymouth screech out of the
garage, into the street, and headlong into the side of a passing police car.
The sound of tinkling glass and escaping air causes the only other pas-
senger, a ghost-like transient in a green courdoroy coat, to look up and
smile. I slump across the long back seat and breathe deeply, calm for the
first time in days.
El Zopilote
Houston, TX
ROTO MEETS THE SKATEBOARD GURU
I
t was another rank day around Skatesville. Nothing happen-
ing... Nothing going to happen. I get in moods like this from time
to time. My folks call it boredom. I try to tell them it's a very de-
pressed state of mind, brought on by a chromosome imbalance I
have because they used to do acid. They tried to pacify me with
quarters for the video baby-sitter; I just wasn't up for it. I was into
some high level self-investigation. I had that feeling you get when you're
out above the ramp and your board drops off from under you and you
know that any time, any second, your body is going to stop going up
and start falling down, and you just sort of hang there waiting for it to hap-
pen. That's how I felt. Like I was just hanging up there and nothing was
happening. Where was life going? I knew what I was doing. I'm going to
work as a roady for a punk band, get into mixing and producing and
maybe start my own record company called Roller Records. What I
wanted to know was what was gonna happen to Skates. I know that my
stick will always be a big part of my life... But, what does my life have to
do with Skates? What's the meaning? You can see that I was way out there.
I asked around and some of boys suggested that I do a bunch of speed and
try and skate for a week. Non-stop. It would kinda be like fasting. Some
how I knew that wasn't the solution. I had almost given up on the local
zoo-brains when Liver-Lips over at the skate-pool told me about this old
squanker called the Guru. He said that the Guru was known to live in an
old house on 48th street. It was the only lead I had and I figured what the
hell, it beats hanging out at the half-pipe, doing the same old crap. So I
zipped over to pot-hole riddled 48th. This is where some real pumped out
things started to happen to me. I was thrashing out this gutter section
when I took a little dive, which is no big thing, but when I started to pick
myself up I was suddenly up on the front porch of this junky old house.
Beach Boys music was blaring and the door just kind of swung open. This
preppy dude walks up to me, looks me up and down and tells me that the
Skateboard Guru is in the last room on the left at the top of the stairs. I
later found out that a bunch of gurus live at this house. It's sort of like a
Guru Co-op. What follows is my conversation with the Guru of Skate-
boarders...as best as I can remember it. The dude was floating (I swear to
God) about a foot off this loft bed shaped like a quarter pipe. So my mind
was doing 360s most of the time I was there. I tried to be cool and pretend
that I wasn't impressed.
SALLERIAN
Roto: Nice bed.
Guru: It's almost time for you to begin.
R: Begin what?
G: The task that I have called you for.
R: You called me?
G: Do you think that you would have come on your own?
R: I thought I did.
G: Roto... It's time for you to take the final step for skateboarding.
R: I think you've got the wrong number. I just cruised by to ask a few
questions.
G: I'm going to answer those questions for you. Sit down and listen.
R: But I haven't even asked them yet.
G: Park it!, fur ball.
(It was almost like I was hypnotized or something. I was under his control
and I was stuck. I slipped my skate under my butt and waited to see what
was next.)
G: The Roller Board is going nowhere. It's time to complete the circle.
That's why you're here. It's time to set the final trend. You've lost touch
with the meaning of the skateboard. I'm going to give you the ultimate
stick. You'll catch some shit from your cronies at first... but you'll persist
and soon this will be the new fad.
R: I'm gonna be a trend-setter? That's rad!
G: Rad?
R: Never mind. (I was starting to get the idea that this cat was out in
space somewhere.)
G: This is your new board. Soon sidewalk surfers will realize the limita-
tions and grow bored with it. They will return to the water and surf board
from whence they came.
(I couldn't believe my eyes. He had an old pair of steel wheeled roller
skates...nailed to a 2x4.)
R: You want me to ride that?
G: It's your destiny!
I'd been rocking side to side on my Hi-tail and somehow I got my finger
under the wheel and rolled right over it. The pain kinda snapped me and
when I looked up it was like his face was melting. I knew I had to get
out...so I bolted. I kicked the door open and hammered a couple of good
strokes toward the stairs. I could see the door slowly starting to close and
EDER
that preppy was standing there. I wasn't
thinking real straight, but I knew that
the only way to get out would be to just
go for the full-power dive drop. So I
tucked and went for it. By the time I
got down the stairs I was moving pretty
quickly, but the door was closed and the
preppy was standing there in my way.
Somehow I ricocheted off him and
through a window, out onto the porch
and off the six stair drop to the sidewalk.
I was up and kicking like hell down the
street. I looked over my shoulder and
saw the Guru on that cave-stick chasing
me.
I didn't look again until I got to the
skate park and safety. He was nowhere
to be seen. I tried to tell Buzz and the
boys about it. If that's the future...I
don't want any part of it. They think I'm
crazy...I hope they're right.
Dino Della Penna
Sacramento, CA
27