“If you’re a skateboarder… you should make a pilgrimage to Mt. Baldy.” Steve Alba said it and — for once — I am in full agreement with him. A few of the crew had never been there and rode the concrete cylinder. Last week we were texting back and forth and the topic came up. It was quickly a sealed deal. We were going during the weekend and so it was. This morning the sky was steely. We left Hollywood and drove east. The rest of the crew came in and met us at the base of the spillway. We made the walk in. Howie, Gopa, Ripperside Shawn, Henry Matus and Rick Stine.
On arrival, there was no plank. A few didn’t want to make the jump. Old bones, older injuries… Howie and I left to go to a lumber yard. Leaving the neighborhood, we spotted an old pile of lumber at an abandoned lot. Problem solved. We marched back and in less time than it takes to tell it, we were rolling and laughing.
There are some things that cannot be explained. How do forty and fifty year old men explain the feeling of absolute happiness that burns through our blood streams when riding a huge concrete pipe or a new pool? How can we understand the inner compulsion that drives us through so much adversity… pain, injuries, lawlessness, social stigma? We can’t even explain it to ourselves. I don’t understand why I do what I do except to say that it is fulfilling beyond anything else in my life. While my contemporaries watch TV and live life through others actions, my friends and I are participating in our own… viscerally. In the gut. In the bones. Happiness.
Thank you Shawn, Gopa, Howie, Rick and Henry. That was truly fun. X Ozzie