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Photo of Tony Magnusson by Don Fisher
"THAR SHE BLOWS!"
By Bobaba Jones
The winds blew minds that day.
Weather warnings told people to stay inside and batten down the
hatches. The tail end of hurricane Flo was approaching from the
southeast.
She was called the toughest mama of them all by those who had
survived her fury. Poor souls on board ships which had bobbed in her
path, now hung out in Davey Jones' locker. Two weather planes sent
to gather information about her went down like pelicans on a sardine
binge. A surfer in Florida caught a 35 foot wave and rode it into a
semi-trailer parked a ½ mile from the beach.
Even far inland, in Kansas-land of Toto, people were warned to
stay inside. The day Flo was due to show dawned ominously, with
howling 20-30 mph winds. She brought with her a braless cold front.
The weathermen predicted the incoming cold front meeting the stag-
nant warm front, which now sat over Topeka, would produce at least
a few "twisters" or tornadoes.
Everyone was hiding in basements, huddled with everyone else, all
hoping Flo would soon go. Well, almost everyone.
A group of skaters gathered in an empty comfield around their just-
finished ramp. These boyz had worked long and hard building this
wooden work of art. They had already risked much during their visits
to the midnight lumber yards. One more risk seemed worth it to them,
especially since their creation might not make the ride through the
storm.
She was a fine and bold ramp. She boasted cycloid transitions and
large dimensions. Her breadth was a sweet 25 feet. It was no lie that
she was 12 feet high, and the boyz couldn't hide that she was 24 feet
wide. What's more, the lip on either side slanted in opposite direc-
tions. The test pilots quickly found this was a good idea. Going up
to the high point on one side and then blasting an air off the low part
of the other was a breeze. Grinds from the high point all the way down
to the low point were flurrous.
As the wind began to pick up, so did the airs. Biff launched one
about five feet out and then a quick gust pushed him back over the
coping. He hung so long and hard he thought he heard an explosion.
No one else heard it though; the wind was blowing the other way.
On his next ride, Biff sailed even higher, perhaps six and a half feet,
on a tabletopped backside air. This time the wind pulled him the other
way and he landed with a crack in the middle of the flat bottom. He
made it, but the impact snapped his board and jolted his knees.
A nerd named Nimrod laughed loudly at the hurt and sad Biff, whose
legs limped from the landing. Nim dropped in and went for a Madon-
na, a trick that was like a gay twist for Biff-something he'd never
attempted because of its name. Nimrod launched himself into the win-
dy sky but a gust caught him and pushed him beyond the ramp. He
landed in the dry grass about 20 feet behind it.
The wind raged with such a ferocious force that a skater would zoom
up the one side only to make it half way up the other side facing the
wind.
Most everyone had decided to call it quits by this time, especially
after Joe had caught a ten foot fakie ollie just for trying to ride against
the wind a little too long before turning around.
It was noon o'clock, but the skies were as dark as worn street wheels.
Biff sat contemplating his skating. His injury felt better. It wasn't good
enough to walk, but he knew he could skate. While everyone was
laughing and calling him a fool for not following, he just sat silently
shaking his head. He had done much for this ramp and wasn't about
to leave it.
Sammy left his board behind in case Biff decided to skate home.
As soon as they had all left, Biff began to ride. Now the wind was
so strong he could only ride the ramp like a quarter pipe, shooting
up one side and crawling back into the wind to start again.
Biff soon discovered the wind was his friend. He pulled a lein air
and a harsh zephyr caught him and stalled him at 5 feet up for fifteen
seconds before allowing him to return earthward.
Then, all went quiet. The wind stopped and the clouds stood still.
"This is freaky shit," Biff said to himself. He proceeded to skate both
sides and decided he was proud of his ramp.
All of a sudden the clouds parted and Biff heard a howling worse
than any speed metal band could dredge up. A funnel shaped cloud
appeared and whipped around and around as if it were inside a giant
invisible blender.
"Mo fuck," he said. The thought of running for cover crossed his
mind, but he decided if he was gonna go, he wanted to go skating.
Besides, there was no place to hide.
He commenced the session of his life. He threw grinds, laybacks,
airs and slides with uncanny accuracy. The sky roared above him and
lightning froze him in mid-air, like the flash of a heavenly camera.
He said a prayer as he rode, something he hadn't done in a long time
and now wished he had.
The twister approached, screaming obscenely while Biff continued
what seemed his last ride. With the thing 50 feet away and closing fast,
Biff surged for the sky in an alley oop. As he rose backwards through
the air, what felt like a giant hand grabbed him and threw him like
a baseball. "This be it," he said. He prayed for forgiveness for all the
wood he stole.
The next thing he knew, he was spinning McTwists-seven, eight,
he lost count of how many. "Man, this ain't no twister, it's a
McTwister," he declared. He got dizzy tumbling head over heels like
that and switched his grab. Now he was no longer rolling and twisting.
he was just cruising a tuck-knee frontside air around and around in-
side the tornado.
Biff looked out and saw he was at least 500 feet high. "Well, if I
die, I'll know I caught more air than anyone else ever has." He saw
mountains below and realized he had sailed a long way. He brought
the skate to his lips and kissed it.
Just then, the twirling torrential twister stopped, and Biff was look-
ing down. He spotted what seemed like a giant white heart underneath
him. His skater instincts told him this was the largest pool he had ever
seen. He aimed for the deep end and plummeted with his knees tucked
forward and back hand holding on tight. "If this be it, it might as well
be done with style," he thought.
Biff remembered hearing that once a falling object reaches a cer-
tain speed, it can go no faster. He had reached that speed.
With a "chuhguhuh" he landed on one of the sidewalls of the 15
foot masterpiece and then carvegrinded the whole other wall, leav-
ing chunks of his trucks behind. He layed back a long, hard grind on
the other side, just to slow down.
When he finally decided to stop, he looked up. There were men and
women dressed in white smiling down at him. They wore wings on
their backs.
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