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Skateboarders
Now and Then
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The Lens was just a lad when, in the mid-‘70s, the polyurethane wheel and
Santa Monica’s Z-boys transformed the skateboard from a Eisenhower-era gimmick
into today’s all-consuming obsession. That a kid in the Inland Empire could
mimic a bit of surf culture made it all that more cool.
I distinctly recall using the skateboard (a banana yellow Malibu Grand Prix with
a kick tail) to travel from point A to point B, and soar down insanely steep hills.
Today’s generation of skateboarders, however, seem fixated on grinding their
boards along such things as curbs and handrails, stairs and benches.
This is the reason you now find metal speed bumps bolted every few feet along
the edges of cement planters in front of most of the city’s
municipal buildings, and long black marks along un-bumped outdoor
surfaces. The modern skateboarder has created a whole niche for
security guards assigned just to shooing them away.
In the parking lot at the beach near Shutters one recent evening, three skateboarders
practice their hallowed craft. One wears a hooded sweatshirt, the other two
wool beanies pulled down over their eyebrows, even though the mid-November evening
is as warm as Summer.
The object of their attention is a knee-high, curved cement barrier separating
an access lane from the parked cars. Their rigs are long, wide and
wooden -- boards at once more advanced and traditional than the
short, plastic Malibu of my youth.
One skater, tall for his age and brash, sets up a good fifty feet from the
barrier. After a few long strides at the asphalt he approaches at speed, squatting
over his board. A few feet from the barrier he kicks the board up and onto it,
sailing along concrete edge until the back wheels catch the curve and he is
flung headlong onto the parking lot.
He lays there for minute, face down, moaning dramatically for his friends and
yelling “duuuude,” as if to signify pulverized bones. But he is
quickly on his feet and at it again.
It is satisfying to hear “dude” and “totally” flow
freely among the three little thrashers. Some things never change.
Rather than attempt to ride the barrier, the other two skaters hope to jump
their boards over it and land upright on the other side. Over and over they
hit the top of the concrete and are also tossed to the ground.
But continue to try they do, with impressive tenacity. Each boy practices his
move with the intensity of Luke Skywalker seeking jedi status.
The tall boy continues his attempt to ride the barrier, always ending with
the face-plant; the other boys nearly make it over the top of it, but are laid
out on the other side when they miss. Their boards crash to the asphalt with
sounds like boards being knocked together.
This goes on for nearly an hour until a dark green SUV pulls into the parking
lot and stops near the boys. On it its rear tinted window a sticker reads, “Skateboarding
Is Not A Crime.”
The tall boy makes one final run at the barrier, hard this time. Launch, squat,
jump, slide. It’s not pretty, but, finally, he makes it all the way around
the curve until he lands on the asphalt upright on his board with a lurch.
He puts his arms up in victory. “Duuude!”
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