BusLine. 115
BY MARK GONZALES
THE FIRST TIME I SAW HIM,
I could not believe my eyes. I
mean. I had heard a lot about
him. The shit I heard was like.
"Man, this dude is so gnarly, he
pops ollies over moving cars.
He skates with no shoes, lives
on the street and doesn't give a
fuck about shit." But all that I
heard could not amount to
what he was truly like.
I was riding the RTD bus line
115 with my mom. We were on
our way coming home from a
hospital visit. Anyhow, the bus
started to get crowded. I gave
up my seat for some old lady.
I told my mom I would be in
the back. When I got up, the
old lady thanked me and gave
me a fake smile. It made me
wish that I hadn't given her my
seat. But when I got to the back
of the bus, I was stoked.
First I saw his bare feet with
cuts and bruises and caked-on
dried blood. I didn't know it
was him, but then in his lap I
saw his board. It was dirty. He
was dirty. I knew it was him-
the underground skate legend.
I had goose bumps and was
afraid to address him. He
didn't notice me looking at
him. He was looking out the
window. I stood four feet from.
him and was in utter amaze-
ment by his appearance alone.
What I wanted was to see him
skate. I was hoping he would
get off before me and my mom
did, then that way, as he got
off and the bus pulled away.
I could see him skate. But our
stop was coming up within two
or three blocks. My mom rang
the bell and walked to the back
where I was. I tugged on her
and pointed to him. I wanted
her to see, so when we got off
the bus I could tell her about
him. But instead when I tugged
at her and pointed at him, she
said loudly. "What? What is
it?" Then he, the skateboard
legend, looked over at us. I
tried to quiet her up. I said.
"Oh, nothing. Nevermind." He
seemed to have a look of soli-
tude. I wished I had my board.
or I wish I had the guts to say,
"What's up?" to him. But the
bus pulled to a stop. and me
and my mother got off.
He did a fakie
360° flip over
one table.
On the walk to our house I
asked her if she had seen the
dirty guy on the bus with no
shoes. The skateboarder. I
added. She said no. Then I went
on explaining all that I heard
of him. None of it seemed to
interest her. Then I stopped
walking. I pointed at a car that
was coming down the street. I
said. "Mother, that guy can
ollie straight over moving cars.
You know, jump cars with a
skateboard attached to his
feet." I gave up. Whether she
believed me or not, it didn't
matter. She didn't skate, she
didn't know. We continued to
walk. As soon as we got home.
the first thing I did was pull
out some of my skate mags. Of
course I was looking for him.
to see if I could find a picture
to match it up to the picture I
had of him in my mind. But
I couldn't find any. It was
about six o'clock. The ideas of
the different tricks I heard he
did had my mind going, so I
asked my mom if I could go out
skating. She told me. "OK, fine,
but be back by nine." When I
walked out the front door and
set my skateboard down, the
first place I headed was to the
street where we got off the bus.
I was going to go up a few
blocks and see if maybe he got
off the bus a few blocks after
we did. I was out and skating
until about fifteen past eight.
I figured I better head home. I
was pissed. I wish I would have
just said. "Hey, I skate, and I've
heard about you. Where do you
skate at? Is it true you can ollie
cars? How come you skate
barefoot?" Just all kinds of
things I wanted to find out
about this guy. Well, I got
home before nine, and my
mom didn't get mad. Every-
thing was fine. She told me my
friend Stan had called, but I
wasn't going to call him back.
because he was a talkaholic.
Since today was Sunday, I
figured I'd see him tomorrow
in school anyway. Then I'd get
a chance to hear what he had
to say. I stayed up pretty late
doing some homework. It was
almost finished, and it didn't
seem to make much sense to
me. I was writing an essay on
the civil rights movement of
the sixties. I didn't really care.
about what I was writing
about. I just wanted to write
something so it seemed as
though I gave an effort. That
way maybe my teacher would
give me a passing grade.
Well, the next day at school
I saw Stan. We had the same
homeroom class. The first
thing he said was, "Hey, I saw
that dude. You know, the one
who skates with no shoes."
I said. "Yeah. I did too. I saw
him on the bus. I was with my
mom. Where did you see him?"
Stan said, "Across the street
from my house. He was skating.
on the tables at the park."
"No way," I said. "What was he
doing? Was he good?"
Stan said. "Fuck, man, I
couldn't believe it. He just
started skating, and in five
minutes a crowd started to
gather. He was doing all these
crazy tricks, I don't know what
they were. I was all excited just
watching."
I asked, "Hey, Stan, he was all
dirty like a bum or something.
wasn't he?"
"Yeah, his feet were all bloody
from ollieing and stuff. It was
kind of sick because he looked
in such bad shape. The people
that were watching wanted
him to stop, but he just kept
going. He was smooth and had
such a solid pop. Then he took
a little break and I got close to
him. I looked at his feet. They
looked like Naugahyde, like a
football or something."
"No way." I said.
"Did he kickflip over two
tables? I heard that he could
do that."
Stan said, "No, I didn't see
him do that, but he did a fakie
360 flip over one table."
"Fuck, man. No way, really?"
THE
"Yeah, it was crazy. And after
he finished skating, the people
thought he was doing it for a
show or for donations. They
started putting money in a
little pile next to where his
jacket was. But he picked up
his jacket and just skated off.
He didn't touch the money.
One guy said. "Well, if he don't
I want it, I'll take it.' Then every-
one started fighting over all of
the money. And then the police
came and broke it up. It was
funny, this old man was stand-
ing up to one of the cops, say-
ing. 'I was just trying to get
my dollar back."
"So what happened after
that?" I asked Stan.
"What do you mean?" Stan
asked me back.
"Well, where did the barefoot
skater go?" I asked
Stan said. "Fuck if I know. He
just put his jacket on and skat-
ed off into the night."
GANGS
SP.T
FIRST
TIME I SAW
HIM ON
THE BUS
34 Тиклан