Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Speed Bump

This past year-and-a-half has been a real skateboard adventure. It started with me being stranded on the west coast, skatin' a discount deck with drifting trucks, hanging out with the likes of Kill-Joy and playing his grandmother's version of gin rummy over a single cup of tea (one bag for two cups) which was all that we could afford at the local java joint. Then I took a three day, non-stop bus ride across two-thirds of this enormous country, and landed here in Steeltown in time for the twelfth annual Beasley Skate Jam; an event for which I had no skateboard, so I rolled around on a crub-side special until an old high school friend appeared and lent me his wheels for a run or two. Then I made it through the long Canadian winter and almost gave up all hope of skating again until a little voice through the internet encouraged me to clear off the local basketball court with a snow shovel and carve some lines to help thrash away the blues. Somewhere in-between now and then, I won a free Rodney Mullen skateboard and some shoes (which didn't fit), broke up with my girlfriend, got back together with my girlfriend (?), re-learned all my old tricks and then some, taught skateboard camp for a week, and made a fool of myself at the thirteenth annual Beasley Skateboard Jam.

Through all these adventures I had a heck of a lot of fun rolling around like a maniac (a cautious, calculating maniac, mind you), but now I'm a little tired from all that frenetic, kinetic activity. Every skateboarder gets old, sooner or later. Their ollies get a little less poppy, their kickflips have less kick, and their bonelesses become slightly more boney (in the arthritic sense). They start appreciating the more placid, rolling aspects of the sport over the technical, trick-busting side of skating, and perhaps they even start to feel a hankering for a touring-style longboard. For myself, riding the transitions and bowls of the various parks we visited during the week of skate camp gave me a taste of a kind of skating that was never very accessible to me in the heyday of the 80s, before skateparks started popping up every which way one turns. Carving the bowls is very pleasant, and perhaps slightly more gentle on the ol' fakieknees, providing you wear pads and don't wipe-out too often.

Yes, it's been fun freewheelin' around town, fakiegrinding through the days like a four-wheeled fiend of fury, but I think it's time for a little fakie vacation. Maybe eventually, when my knees feel better and the goose-eggs on my shins have healed, I'll graduate to a wider board, bigger wheels, and a smoother ride. Maybe I'll even do the Fakiegrind Canadian skatepark tour, as planned. If it ever comes about, I'll let you know. Till then, I might take a little blog hiatus. It's been fun bloggin' wit y'all, and our specially trained team of Fakie contributors have really made the site something special. Blogging is something like the old days of radio, when any fool with access to the proper technology could grab a wavelength and start broadcasting. And just like with radio, there is sure to be some sort of clamp-down eventually. Already, spam commentators have started infiltrating the free marketplace of ideas with their spamazoid spermospores. Soon you'll probably need some sort of license to freely express yourself online. 'Till then, I hope there are still some renegade bloggers out there to carry on the torch of dissension, expression and proper verb declension.

The Flatlander isn't one to pander to the Panda bear, mess around with anti-matter, or scatter women's underwear. He's just rocking it on to the break of dawn, keeping the beat strong and the orbits oblong. Tracking rebel satellites. Waiting 'till the morning light comes creeping over Steeltown streets. Looking out for new recruits and using tofu substitutes in place of certain meats. Like Rakim, his favourite dish is fish. In search of treats del-ish, why not wish for a knish?

Church bells tolling, I feel like bowling, my achy-breaky parts don't gather no mold. In thrift shops strolling, for beats I'm trolling, so keep it rolling, keep it fakie, and keep it old.


Rock-steady said...

Damn you spammers!

Flatlander, you know of course the mission is far from over.

flatlander said...

Hey Rocksteady! The battle against spam comments might necessitate my assuming some deep cover, perhaps infiltrating into the inner echelon of "spoggers" in order to learn their nefarious secrets and subvert the bastard technology to interests more in line with Fakiegrind's vision of rolling liberation.

...But I've said too much already.

Rock-steady said...

Best you wire further details to me.