RECON
H FUCK!
There it is. I thought that to
myself. I was scopin' it out alone
before I went and told anyone
about it. It had already been skated
and I heard it was the last day. The road was
narrow so I went up to the next intersection
to turn around; better at the intersection in
case anyone came while I was doin' it.
Stopping traffic with a 3-point turn in front of
the construction site I'm trying to bust into
makes the "Can you tell me where the stables
next to the tennis courts are? I'm late for my
lesson" a little harder to pull off. Anyway,
comin' back around I looked in the rearview
mirror to see if there were any cars behind me:
no, good. I drove by slow to take another look. Oh
shit, I can see the tranny from here! Sick! Gate's all
locked up, looks like all the workers are gone home,
perfect. I noticed my heart was pumping faster. OK,
gotta find a place to park the fuckin' car now. I
sped up and noticed again how rich neighborhoods
don't have any parking on the street. They've all got
the huge airstrip driveways to dock their German
boats in right before they go in to their highballs and
dinners served by the butler who probably tag teams
their bored-ass wife with the pool boy at least a cou-
ple times a week. "C'mon baby, eat the rich." This little
street on the left looks good-oh wait is this a driveway?
Oh well, fuck it. I'll be gone soon enough. I leave the load
in the grass next to some manicured bushes. I left my
board in the trunk to stay incognito and followed some
spandex runner bitch along this little private
exercise/equestrian path that goes along the inside of
the wall of hedges and fences back to where the pool's
at. Shut up dog. Get back in the fuckin' house. I started.
walkin' slower so the runner bitch would be around
the bend by the time I crossed the street. No cars?
Yes. I jogged out like I was some fresh and promising
graduate trying to stay fit after a solid day of ass-
smashing down at the stocks and bonds office.
Shitface. I got to the temporary fence across the drive-
way with the NO TRESPASSING sign on it. Ah, fuck!
How the fuck do I get in this? The fence was anchored
down tight and it was flush up to the regular wood
fence; no way to squeeze through. Cars? No. OK. Fuck it,
I'm just gonna jump it right here then. My feet hit the
ground and I started running covert ops style over to the
little green pit next to the only building left standing on
Opposite: Blue tile des-
perado Curtis Hsiang
snags a grind in the
uncharted deep end
regions, unafraid of
lingering noxious
pool vapors.
Above: The streets of
the city are a series of
obstacle courses for
urban commandos like
Dan Drehobl. Big snaps
in San Francisco.
LAKC673
85