FARM JAM
transitioned banks to play with. It is a skater's
paradise.
The pool's been abandoned for ages. How
it remained a secret for so long not even the
locals know. A lot of surfers skate there on
off days and it's no wonder. It flows. It just
has that feel to it. It's scary, it's fast and it
has a few holes. It requires respect. Like the
strokes of a paint brush in the hand of an
artist, lines are drawn in a creative and
graceful way by a skillful skater. Rhapsody.
To ride with everything you've got, to be fully
in tune because you know these are the final
days and tomorrow will come all too soon.
The session began early, 11-ish, with only
four experienced riders raging in the interior
of the gaping orifice. The holes were soon
found and avoided at all cost. However, the
price one must pay to ride such a fine piece
of history is high; therefore, losses must be
expected. The skate gods' thirst was satiated.
A session progressed uninhibited for two
hours. Locals had trickled in one by three,
as if a spigot had been left on and the pool.
was soon full of people having fun. The pool.
was happy.
The happiness ended abruptly as the man
in blue invaded our blissful oasis. One comes
to expect this. "Stop having fun."
A nearby ramp provided ample satisfaction
although our minds were elsewhere. Four
riders decided to brave the elements for an
evening carve or three. The weather held true
and sessioning resumed with even more
conviction. Soon, though, night fell as a
curtain over the horizon. Tired and sore, the
contented four assumed a relaxing state.
Moming arrived and the party headed out
for more fun. By now the dominating forces
were clear. Adaptability and experience
struck again and the line was drawn dark and
Le
ARE
wide between those who did and those who
did not. Some have not yet been deprived
of sacred terrain and so do not know. Others
have watched solemnly as their park turns
into a mall or their ramp turns into a vegetable
garden. The choices become clear at that
point, adapt or go home.
Cherry Hill veteran Steve Herring chose
to adapt. With eleven years of riding under
his belt, he has watched countless prime
skate spots bite the dust. This one was no
different. "Shred the hell out of it until it's
gone." Undaunted by the five-inch square
scab on his back, which resembled a half-
cooked oozing steak, Steve whipped up
some lines that imprinted terror on young
skateboarders' faces. Speed was the need,
and homeboy pumped every corner hard and
fast, carving high on the walls for backside
micro-wheelers and frontside grinds that
made his trucks rasp in pain. Nothing short
of a controlled frenzy.
With eyes like a guru's, Brad Constable hit
the 'crete as if he and the pool were one and
the same. Fluid motion. Hypnotic gyrations.
A masterful combination of style and
creativity gained through years of park and
pool riding. A Cherry Hill remnant himself,
Brad has a vast collection of moves, from
arm-trailing layback grinds to frontside
rockers and an assortment of airs and slides
pulled out of the hat for the occasion-a
veritable smorgasbord in a concrete bowl.
Checking up on his roots with the Jersey
Boys, Jeff Hartsell was out from California
to rage East Coast style and found himself
in a very West Coast-like habitat, a pool.
While empty pools are found and ridden
maybe once or twice a year by the
determined rider, they are definitely not a
common find east of the Rockies. Jeff felt
Steve Herring, true to style, grinds some pho
toes while Jeff Hartsell uses his street smarts to
carry him up onto the vertical "wall" for a front
truck grind.
right at home on his terrain, carving as
though by instinct, thrusting and pumping for
speed, drawing out endless lines through
sheer momentum. His momentum would
often carry him out of the deep end, onto a
vertical wall in the shallow end and back out
into the engulfing chasm to carry on with
stylish frontside grinds at max speed. Jeff
flows an intoxicating concoction of old and
new moves.
Others deserving of credit and note
include Derek, who flapped some beyond-
sick airs in which he would fly above the two-
foot "deck," footplant some three feet up on
the vertical wall and somehow manage to
land just below the "coping." Madness.
An old time surfer/skater named Terry, who
used to own a skate park in the area,
localizes the pool now and then. We got a
front row seat for "Back to the Past" as he
ripped hard on a long board and reminisced
about the days of Shugo Kubo.
Enter stage left: musician and BMX
shredder Daryll has paved his way onto the
scene by being an all-around cool cat, not
to mention having a fully aggro riding style.
As versatile as any skater and ripping just
as hard, the guy is lacking nothing but an
extra set of wheels.
While the days of this pool are numbered,
the days of skateboarding are not. To hell with
the futuristic conjectures and the pessimistic
views. The vein through which skateboarding
flows is a timeless entity, comprised of both
body and soul. Those who truly desire to ride
will, regardless of the tides that rage in favor
of or against the sport. The forces of evil that
apply monetary value to something that
comes from the very soul have little chance
of overcoming the truly devoted.
Peace, Brah.
The Place:
Somewhere in the heart of North Carolina was a
ramp jam. There was a contest, but it wasn't the
main draw. This was a meeting, a social event, a
reminder that roots still exist and are one of the most
important factors of our growing skate society. It was
a skate commune for one weekend.
The place was the Farm Ramp, located just out-
side Raliegh, NC. It was the second annual jam held
by Dave Dismuke and Morris and Brian Wainwright.
The massive structure features a 10' transition, 1½"
of vert, a 24' width and a 16' flatbottom, complete
with a better than adequate lighting system. The
ramp is in a wooded field, with a pond nearby-the
perfect setting for a
skate-for-fun fest.
all parts
Skaters came from
of the East Coast to
skate, party and have an
all around good time, and
that's exactly what
went down.
The People:
The Rancheros,
Tommy Kay and
Jeff Stevenson,
from Atlanta, GA.
made the trek,
flowing positive
vibes for all.
T.K. ripped it up on
a long board (An-
drechts, no less) and
dominated all snake ses-
sions, Jeff skated fast and ➤
Roller, skater and jam orgonizer Brian
Wainwright takes time out for a little
frontside edge play Insert As one
local elder decribed it, the Farm
Ranip resembled Woodstock
with tents, fires, swimming
holes, et cetera,