Karl Hubble,
nollie bigspin
grab, Burnside.
A GROUP OF DRUNK GIRLS ROLLED UP.
Andy Culberson gets
his ramp on in Bend.
TOOK THEIR CLOTHES OFF.
AND RAN
AROUND IN
THE SPRINKLERS.
weren't into strangers. By the time
a third patrol car showed up on the
scene and wanted to know who
the owner of our car was, we knew
it was time to move on, but not
before a quick session at a local's
indoor mini-ramp.
We skated the ramp for a while
and caught word of a cement bowl
in Talent, Oregon. They said it
wasn't too good, but we knew it
was our next destination. We set
camp on the beach and splurged
on 89-cent cans of Schlitz Blue
Bull. Before I could finish wiping
the dew off my face in the morn-
ing, we were back on the road and
in a new state.
Talent is just across the border of
Oregon, and we found the bowl in
no time. Out in a barren dirt field
surrounded by little kids and a few
BMXers was where it lay. It looked
too rad. There was an eight foot
wall that bowled around and down
to a four foot section. There was a
hip that led into a tight pocket that
was about eight feet all around
with no flat. The locals pointed out
that it resembled a man's genitalia
(if you can picture that). We didn't
care what the hell it resembled; we
were skating it.
After an hour or so, some locals
showed up to join in on the dam-
age. A kid named Lucian, who
reminded us of Boomerang Boy
from one of those Mad Max
movies, ripped it up and spoke of
a new park that was to be fin-
ished that day up the road. We
threw him in the car and pushed
on up to Jacksonville with Lucian
as our guide.
The park was set up on a small
hill, and some of the sections still
looked a bit gray. A mother was
there watching her son sway
around on his rollerblades and
said that the place was dry
enough to skate. That was all we
needed, and the skating was sum-
moned into session. Indeed,
Jacksonville was probably one of
the best parks we skated the
entire time. It flowed so well, with
about a seven foot bowled corner
on one side and a seven foot quar-
terpipe wall on the other with
other things in between.
Skating came to an abrupt halt
after about an hour, when the
dudes who were building the park
showed up with the most disgust-
ed looks on their faces. "Oh shit,"
I said to Ben as he scurried down
the stairs. They were so bummed
on us that I figured my number
was up to get pounced. I wasn't
ready to stick around for my
funeral, so I jumped behind the
wheel of our car, only to have a
huge piece of concrete nail the
hood. We screeched out of there
half freaked and half stoked. Ben
smiled and summed it up:
"Virgin tracks!"
Eugene was our next stop. We
had just arrived at the skatepark
in the middle of the night to sleep
when a group of drunk girls
rolled up, took their clothes off,
and ran around in the sprinklers.
Girls appear a whole lot prettier
when you are on the road, for
some reason; but when a girl is
lame, she's lame. Besides, we
were too tired to acknowledge
them, and I just thought it was a
mirage. A few hours into sleepy-
land and we were kicked out by
the police. The rest stop was our
only hope. The great thing about
Oregon's rest stops is the free
A girl who grinds
four feet of verti
is down. Jen
O'Brien at the
West Seattle bowl.
coffee. There is nothing like wak-
ing up under a picnic table and
getting a hot cup of joe, and any-
thing that said "free" was like
heaven at this point.
The park in Eugene is rather
small, with little hips to hit here
and there. We skated it for a
while and moved up the road to
a couple of smaller towns we
heard had some parks. The pop-
ulation in both towns totalled
800. It felt like we were entering
the twilight zone when we
arrived. We were perfect candi-
dates for police harassment, with
our dirty brown car pumping
Alice Cooper on our small radio.
Our stays at the parks weren't
very long due to the fear of being
78 THRASHER
Bend, Oregon.
Clover bo, Canada,
Dan Murday, Bend:
Langley, Canada.