Beyond the Valley
THE DRIVE
Into the Valley of Death we flew with
the Santa Ana winds on our backs, the air
hot down on our necks like Satan's breath.
I drive knowing that my back tires are get
ting older, losing their non-skid surface,
which makes me a bit uneasy as we, Team
Virgin, hurtle to our destiny at 80 mph.
The faster we go, the more everyone's
heads explode like watermelons as I
slalom through traffic like a downhill ski
racer. In and out of lanes we go, my broth-
ers and I, racing the clock to meet our fel-
low brethren. Sometimes I use my turn
signal, sometimes I don't. After a ways
on the 210 Westbound, we merge into the
134 West, through the hills and through
the woods to grandmother's house we
gol Past Burbank, The Disney Studios and
Warner Brothers.
Bellmar is egging me on: "Come on,
faster! We're never going to get there!"
In my head I'm thinking, "Skaters drive
like they skate. I'm on it."
The traffic around us resembles a giant
army of ants going to a picnic. Only our
destination is Tremorville, the ghost-town
we found in the Times Sunday edition
which showed a map complete with street
names, estimated damages, red-tagged
buildings and the present condition of
each hard hit area.
Nakama is bullshitting as I'm passing
another car and drive into the slow lane
on a snake mission. I notice incoming traf-
fic as four cars
descend the
on-ramp to the
freeway. In the
meantime, an
older lady with
a red Toyota
of the Dolls
STORY & PHOTOS BY STEVE ALBA
other copies out. My wife threw it away.
Was it a coincidence? Do you believe in
magic? Flying saucers? Superstition!
Weird, ain't it?
four-door panics as traffic comes into the
yield zone. She slows, and I downshift all
at the same time. Things happen quickly
when your vehicle is going 90 mph and
somebody panics and does a slow ride. I
look over my shoulder with the speed of a
Kung-Fu fighter, I signal, then punch it into
the second lane, and right at that very
same moment, it happened.
THE CRASH
The sound of crunching metal is a
sound that most people don't forget, and
this was no exception. The older lady had
slowed to a mere 40 mph as I decided to
change lanes. Have you ever played
bumper cars? Try it at 50 mph! It was
exhilarating to say the least. I felt so alive
ELVIS LIVES
at that moment know-
ing what could have
just happened.
And to top it
all off, I had
just received a
stupid chain
letter, and I
didn't send any
Anyway, I need a new quarter-panel,
grill, headlight, and maybe a new bumper.
She had damage to her left rear quarter-
panel, trunk and bumper. Points-10.
THE SCORE
If Death Race 2000 really existed, I'd be
banned. Basically, bumper damage. Too
bad we didn't drive Rubber Baby Bugger
Bumpers. Oh well, I'm over it.
No police, no hassles, no injuries.
A good sign to say the least. We all
could've died. So we exchanged pertinent
information, said our hellos and good-
byes and drove away.
Back into the Rat Race.
ELVIS
We got there an hour late due to our
minor traffic adjustment. We met at Elvis
Pool, named after an impersonator with
a fortune who had created an exact repli-
ca of the King's house (on the inside, of
course) and had just finished redecorating
CONROY
POOLS
it for an estimated 250,000.00 dollars.
And what happened? The quake shook,
rattled and rolled the place so much that
they red-tagged it. No more pictures, no
more videos, no more movie stars. He
can't go in anymore, and he says the
insurance money still hasn't come yet.
A year later.
A total loss.
See ya, wouldn't wanna be yal
THE SQUARE
The next stop was a square pool with a
killer loveseat and brick coping. Again the
house was demoed and the pool in per-
fect condition: Drained and waiting. We
rode, paranoid about the neighborhood,
Clockwise from left: Mister Fresh, Remy Stratton,
grabs a fatty at Balboa Gardens. "Honey I'm
home," destruction in the Valley. The posted
"Keep Out" signage. Kelly Bellmar jumps the
hump in the corner pocket of the Stagg Pool.
Duncan, Robison and Hosoi take a breather at
Sunburst. Ollie to grind by the reclusive John
Swope at the Coffin. Overview of the Coffin. Elvis
before the crash and Maddog after. Very few will
ever live long enough to do a backside lipslide in
a backyard pool. Respect to John Swope.
but stoked on the transitions.
On a scale from 1 to 10, I'd rank
this particular square pool about
a 6% for good surface, rideable
deep end and trickable loveseat.
on which anything imaginable
could be done.
TREMORVILLE
If you saw the place, you'd think a war
zone hit it. Every other house or apart-
ment is damaged in
some way or another.
Some have chimneys
missing, roofs caved
in, second story build-
ings smashed upon
cars, trucks and any-
thing else which hap-
pens to be in the way
on their way down.
Apartment complexes
featuring one hundred i
permanent dwellings
are depopulated, and,
in some cases, per-
sonal belongings left
behind in a twilight
zone panic. It doesn't
seem real, but it is. Total devastation.
Bad for most, but great for skateboarders.
SUNBURST
We take advantage of yet
another quake victim. Another
homeowner taken for a ride by
Mother Nature. The house is in
construction phase, the framing
done. The pool has a strange
name which none of the pool
commandos have heard of.
Conroy. Fish logo. Hand-painted.
Real weird. But the pool itself is a
THE SCENE
LIMITED ENTRY
ENTRADA LIMITADA
dandy left-hand kidney
with reddish three-inch
coping. It has been visit-
ed by a host of greats.
Christ Hosoi, Maddog.
Swope, Nakama, Gabel,
Stiles, Stratton and Bell-
mar all come to mind.
You could say that it's
that good. The Sunburst
Bowl is retro, like a 70s
skatepark. Pool Scale-
8% for good surface,
nice, slick coping, nice
trannies and vert, and a
good shallow end for
speed carves back into
the bowl.
Pools, pools, pools galore. They are
everywhere. In alleys, hotels, motels and
lots and lots of abandoned apartments.
Big. Small. Huge. Take your pick and make
the rounds. Though I gotta say that there
is security everywhere now and noisy
neighbors who call the cops. So, be care-
ful if you go and don't take any wooden
nickels. And try not to crash!
IN NORTHRIDGE