DB: Night Riders Assemble

This Saturday I looked outside, saw dry pavement, and put my hand out the mail slot tentatively, like a frightened swimmer puts a toe in the water, to test the temp. Everything seemed opportune for a seasonal habit I’ve been hungering to reinstate. I pulled my hand back inside and went digging in the warehouse for an old friend.

In the fires of California, seven sheets of hand-seasoned wood are glued meticulously together and then carved into a flexible concave dart. Like a flat missile, it lay waiting for me to see its wingless fuselage and hunger for the gravity it allows me to master.

“I was made to pilot you,” I blurted, clod-like, to my machine as I pulled it from its perch and turned it over in my hands.

Four green cylinders made of jelly apple candy squish purred at me from their mounts and whispered to me seductively in absolute unison, “Use us….abuse us, see if you can pull us from our hubs.”

Maddened by their sirenesque call, I threw the board away from me and screamed wide eyed and bewildered, “NO! You’re too beautiful, you tramps. You frictionless asphalt interfaces. YOU rolling stones of poly-demonic-evil-urethane speed!” But as I do every time, like the sick, sick man I am, I caved…and went upstairs to find some better shoes and stretch.

Downtown Tacoma is a long board paradise. Sharp steeps are laced with graceful slopes to form many epic combinations of carving pleasure. When one reaches a certain maturity on the deck, it’s possible to navigate a slope of any drivable grade by “carving”, as one does on a snowboard in order to slow down. A certain liquid agility lends itself to terms like “sidewalk surfing” and “gravity wave”, and in this town it is possible to ride for long periods, linking turns all the way to the water, and walk up a mere 6 blocks to once again be at the top of the hill.

When I finished stretching, I took my little motor-less Ferrari outside and lay it on the pockmarked blacktop beyond the warehouse doors. The pavement in this city is a travesty, but big wheels eat up the bumps and cracks, and potholes make for interesting strategies when grappling with traffic for carving space.

Strangely enough, for the first several blocks the only cars I saw were prom limos packed with rabid teenagers cat calling me from their sunroofs. I ignored them and munched on my power bar with cool guy poise. At certain speeds you don’t have to do anything but stand there in the wind and watch for holes. Outside of the prom traffic, downtown near the convention center, there was little other human activity in the whole city – that is, unless you count me and the bus people. The bus people were everywhere, milling about in groups of two to five, waiting for their dirty public transports to take them to God knows where. Probably just going to blow their government money on baseball cards and bubble gum.

Skateboarding is not a crime, but running red lights on your skateboard is. I got hit by a car once. It was awesome. Yes, Tacoma is the ideal long boarding town: mild weather, long hills, short steeps, few weekend cars and prom queens. It all adds up to the cheapest thrills this side of the Panama Canal, especially when compared to the $70 lift tickets available at Crystal Mountain this past season. HOLY CRAP WHAT A RIP OFF!

The only thing Tacoma is missing is fellow Longboarders. It is so much more epic to ride in a pack. I know you dirty bastards are out there. I’ve seen you now and again with your sissy helmets and fancy neon grip-tape, but who am I to judge? I will ride with you! NIGHT RIDERS ASSEMBLE!

This Sunday, if it is dry, I shall be at the Blackwater juicing up for an epic roll starting at 3:00pm. Shortboarders are welcome if you are hawk enough to keep up. We will determine the route when we determine the skill of our club.