This is a picture of my first skateboard. My Mom bought it for me when we moved out to California. She wrote my name on the skateboard because that’s what moms do. I took my skateboard to school because that’s what kids do. Skateboards had to be kept in the library because that’s what schools do.
These three things together created a scenario for a new kid from Pennsylvania with glasses and hair parted down the middle that kicked my survival mode into high gear. I never knew his name and never wanted to get to know him after our first encounter at the library. I’m a short guy–even shorter and smaller at age twelve. He was tall, blond, and had a faux hawk. He looked like he was a high school defensive back.
At the end of the day, we would go to the library to grab our skateboards and head home. He had gone to the library with friends to collect their boards and saw my board. My skateboard was an off-brand board with noname wheels and trucks with my name written on it. I was a poser, and he was, “Gonna find out who that f*cking poser is and take care of it.”
When I moved to California, I promised my Mom I would remain there and not move back in with my Dad. We struck a deal in the small office of a martial arts instructor because I had wanted to be a ninja since I was a little kid. I eventually didn’t keep that promise for a couple of reasons, but let’s stick with the big, blond skater who was gonna kick my ass at school.
My first strategy was to wait longer than anyone else to get my board and make it home to ensure my sister got home from school. He finally caught on and stayed longer than usual to catch the poser. Sometimes, I would just leave it in the library and head home. I needed a new plan, and I needed a new skateboard. My solution was to skip martial arts lessons and use the money for martial arts to buy a new skateboard. I also spent some funds at King Arthur’s Pizza playing Gauntlet and having a slice with my friends. Sorry, Mom!
I bought a Powell & Peralta Steve Steadham skateboard with Tracker trucks and Street Rat 95a wheels. This time, the board does not have my name on it, which will likely get me into the clear. At the end of the day, I used some of the same delay tactics to ensure we wouldn’t pass each other in the library. It worked for a few days until one day, when I was rounding the corner to make it off the property, I heard a commanding voice. “Hey you!” he said.
I stopped cold in my tracks. The kid from Pennsylvania with glasses and feather-back hair slowly turned around, board in hands. I looked up, and he said, “Sweet board. Did you just get it?” I nodded. “Cool, man. I was gonna get that deck, but I guess I’ll have to get another one. Later.” Mid-kid crisis averted.
Sweet board indeed, still got it. I still have all of my skateboards. It’s time to get my tired, old self back on a board. In the meantime, I will redesign the Melt Down graphic and post it online after I work through a few ideas. Stay tuned, posers!