Evidence LXXVIII: Sometimes Skateboarding...

In the immortal words of Sloppy Sam, sometimes skateboarding involves not skateboarding. Last Sunday the phrase couldn’t have been truer. Joe, Craig, Dixon, Hoss and I set off on an Eastside pool mission, to scope a new one or two, to return to one we skated, and to return to one we didn’t skate. The one we didn’t skate was full of water and clean – snooze for just a week or two, and you lose. The one we skated had been jackhammered and prepped for a new surface. We then went and scoped a Frank Lloyd Wright house that has been in the paper. Gargle Earth showed a pool, partially under the house. We parked in front; the house was super high profile, with a fence around the entire property. Joe made the Rambo call and hopped the fence, only to return a minute or two later with the news that the pool is bunk. He didn’t bring a camera, so we got no photos. What to do? We were blanked and jonesing to skate. “Fountain of Youth,” came the call. I think they were humoring me – I genuinely like this spot, although it’s pretty dorky and small, but I’m not sure others do. We made a beeline to the spot, only to find that a huge tree branch had blown down and into the fountain. The sun set, and we were blanked. Those guys took off, but Craig and I polished off a couple of beers as a consolation prize. I’m now on my way to Seattle for the Fallout Skate Team Reunion. Gonna be sick. Above: jackhammered bowl. 

Joe Dirt hops the FLW fence, hi-profile. 

Even the Fountain of Youth was shut down. All photos courtesy of Hoss Rogers!

Hell Hath No Fury...

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Tip o' the hat to Meg's sister Laurel for this one.

R.I.P. Phyllis Diller; Phyllis Diller Ripped!

Phyllis Diller always kinda freaked me out, but in a good way. I had no idea she shredded so hard on a bike, and ran from the cops! R.I.P.

Johnny Radfest V! See you in SD!

DJed last night at the Saguaro Hotel, it was a pretty kick ass time. Leaving shortly for the Johnny Radfest in San Diego, gonna kick ass. Haven't been skating much -- knee is killing me. But I will leave you with this Etta James tune (R.I.P. Etta!). Played it last night, playing it tonight. Whatchoo need? Tell Mama!

Sassafras and Moonshine: Stoned Soul Picnic

I'm not really a big fan of the 5th Dimension ("Up, Up and Away," "Aquarius"), but for some reason I can't get this song outta my head this morning. "Sassafras and Moonshine." Plus the interview with the band on Soul Train... damn, they look like they went to two or three stone soul picnics before making it to the show. And dig the funky dancing, including a couple of kinda out of place cats doing the robot (now you know where Dave Chapelle got that from). Added Bonus: Ron likes to ride his "750 Honda motorcycle." Sadly, no photos but I bet it was a Love Machine. Japanese subtitles in there strictly for your pleasure.

CB350F/400F Update

Making some progress on the CB350F/400F project. Carbs are rejetted and fitted. Cables attached. Grips glued on. Engine mounts and pegs tightened down. I polished each of those goddam bolts, washers and nuts. Rear brake sorted -- had to cut a little off the rear brake lever mount and refit it. And the brake light switch took a little finangling. Got a new chain, cut and mouted. New clutch cable mounted. Got the CB77 speedo/tach combo mounted, might need a little working in. CB350F tank relined with POR15, petcock cleaned out, cap remounted. Got foam on the seat,  but gotta make a cover. Got new exhaust studs (but two still not coming out...). Mounted up the stock front fender -- I think I am going to roll with that. I couldn't find the set of fender mounting bolts, so I might just have to get new ones, maybe allen. Oil filter and housing mounted, oil pan mounted. Breather cover polished and mounted. 

Here's the CB77 speedo/tach. Gotta clean up that triple tree. And... rewire the whole thing and mount rectifier/regulator, put in Dyna ignition and coils (found some Dyna coils that I've been sitting on for a few years, tested 'em, and they spark like mofos), mount up front brake. Figure out front brake line. Finish seat. Add oil and gas. Wrap and mount pipes. Tighten down nuts and bolts. Paint and mount Honda logos on the tank. Mount tail light and stop light -- got killer LED ones coming from the UK. This thing will do the ton, it's gonna be a screamer!

Evidence LXXVII: Homage to Sean

This is a pool that we scoped the other day. Looked good, but it was kind of a hell pit. Cancerous, a dozen or so hets with broken tops, a kink or two, and the diving board wasn't going anywhere. A good friend, Sean Dutton, lived here a decade or so ago. He used to rip, got into drugs, and around that time was back into skating again. He'd come skate our ramp, Area 69. When he lived at this house, he had a pool party. He set up a janky ski slope into a jump ramp into the pool. It was rickety as shit, and we all thought we were gonna eat shit trying it, but we all came out a live. It was fun. Sean died a couple years ago, heroin overdose. Miss that guy. Grinds were tough to come by in this one, but Livingston steps up, frontside. 

Don't worry, it's only sleeping. 

Evidence. 

Craig got a couple grinders too.

Evidence LXXVI: Lurking Backyards

Hoss has a few spots to check, so we went with Brad on a mission. This square actually looks decent. We'll be back. 

This square, however, was a hell pit. 

No tranny... 

But a killer plaque. Hoss liberated it later. 

Poor little critter met its demise. 

We went back to the first square for a closer look. 

Yep, we can roll that. 

Completely refurbished house. I scoped the pool, and went back to the alley to tell Hoss and Brad it was a go. As we were squeezing in to the backyard through the fence and between the oleander, there was a guy standing right there looking at us. Hoss, the silversmith with the silver tongue, introduces himself and asks if he minds if we skate. "No! That's cool!" the Austrian skier exclaims. We had to do some heavy sweeping, but the pool looked amazing, although the coping had been knocked off. We could hear how hollow it was, though, and sure enough cancer developed with the first run. We all grinded it, and split. The good natured Austrian took it all in stride, watched us skate, and wished us good luck. He was the next door neighbor.

The evidence is corroborated. 

Hoss gets his. 

Brad does similarly. 

Back to the hotel pool, but too much water to bucket with not enough time. 

Found another very close to home, this thing looks killer. Tonight we ride, possibly? Or tomorrow? 

Don't know why all of the pool logos are loading sideways, but there you go...

Evidence LXXIV and LXXV: More Blagging

Been lagging on blogging, hence I am combining two skate missions into one post (and still have today's mission to write about). We hit the red coping bowl a couple days ago. Six of us cram in Joe's truck, park in front, and stroll in like we own the place. I smell fresh paint, and there are some Maxim mags in the carport. We start cleaning out the rain water, and two tatted up vatos come out, screwdriver in fist. No troubles though, likely because there were six of us and we all had boards. Joe asked if he lived there, and he replied yes. Bullshit... those guys were stripping copper or something. But they didn't care if we skated, or so they said. They watched for a second then left. We sessioned. Craig got the death. 

Jesse got death too.  

Evidence. Before we bailed, the dudes came back. Put us a little on edge -- did they get some other dudes to come and roll us? They asked for a lighter and watched the session wind down. We got out unscathed. 

Then yesterday we bolted to the West Side. First mission: pebbletech pool. Killer tranny, killer ladder option, but slow. Still, grinds were going around. Joe Dirt steps lively over the ladder. 

Killer tile and coping tile with blue highlights to match. The evidence continues to mount. 

Then on to a tight one. The evidence was blurry. 

Joe Dirt gets the f-side grinder in this one. Hoss got some grinds, but he also fell into the puddle of shit on the bottom, and then a bee stung him on the top of his head. Ouch, guy!