Part I - Steel
I only hear the sound of those slippery steel wheels in my
nightmares. That steel on concrete sound may be a nice memory for those aging seniors
who relate it to the feel of metal skates on their feet in the safety of their
driveway with a skate key around their neck but for a handful of us that sound
is too closely bound to unfulfilled dreams thwarted by our first attempts at
building skateboards and the pain and terror they inflicted upon us. That loud, ragged dangerous ride on the edge
of someplace we didn't want to go but were forced to approach by those insistent
dreams. Skittering too fast across worn
and ragged concrete, pushed by an outrageous act that we could envision but, inevitably,
find out of reach and just across the painful line that our steel technology
could only approach. For me the sound of steel wheels conjures up memories of
fear, failure, pain and Merthiolate.
Part II - Clay
The sound of clay wheels on concrete was much more wholesome than steel but still fundamentally wrong. Muffled compared to metal but still loud and very scary at speed. On wet concrete? Death! They were under you until they weren't and they gave no warning of how close to the threshold of disaster you were. Still, when I first saw a skateboard with clay wheels I saw a bright future. I found an affordable board at Woolworth Drugs in University Village and we became one, sort of.
Skateboards weren't cool then which meant that skateboarders weren't either. When you were uncool you could either embrace it or keep trying to be cool and if you kept trying that meant that you didn't want to be seen on a skateboard. The uncool crew that I skated with, well, we kept trying so most of our skating was done after dark.
Part III - After Dark
We were into big hills and Seattle is full of them. One of our faves was from Volunteer Park down
Galer to Crescent Drive then Crescent Drive to 24th Ave and down into
Montlake. About 350 vertical feet in
~3/4 mile. To avoid traffic and make a
stupid act less dangerous we would make that run around 3:00 AM using traffic
spotters at the 5-way next to Stevens School and the sharp bend where Crescent
Drive intersects 24th Ave. It had some
very fast sections. Too fast for clay
wheels as they would drift and occasionally disintegrate. We were not only uncool but also unsmart, it
would seem. When our wheels came apart
at speed we were going down hard. Bruises
and road rash were both common and one night there was a broken leg, but it
wasn't mine.
About that time, I came to the conclusion that my quest for coolness, desire to stay alive and love of skate boarding were not mutually compatible so I put away my clay-wheeled death board and focused on the other two. By 1970, though, the polyurethane wheel came into existence creating new possibilities for skateboarders. These wheels wouldn't shatter and had very good traction on dry surfaces. I was tempted to buy a set and fit out my board but I felt like I had finally climbed one rung up from the basement of the Uncool and I was still alive so I passed on the poly wheels.
Part IV - Kryptos
In the mid to late-70's roller skating gained acceptance with adults and I was able to come out of the closet. I dated a girl who worked in a skate shop and she outfitted me with a pair of Riedell Classics that I retrofitted with Variflex plates and Kryptonic wheels. A serious skate for a serious skater and that's what I was. The sound of Kryptos on pavement was low frequency, powerful and menacing. Still slippery when wet but drifted in a predictable manner and wheels never shattered. I never got as good as my girlfriend but I became a good street skater.
One of my favorite routes back then was from my apartment on
Capitol Hill to the recently opened Kingdome.
That was an early Sunday morning only route as traffic was light to
non-existent and few folks were walking the streets at that time. The Kingdome had a wide band of fresh
blacktop encircling it that was divine.
Deep powder! The sidewalks
downtown were wide and mostly smooth.
Only the walkways around Pioneer Square were a bit ragged and that added
interest. Pine Street was deserted at
that time and I could use the entire width of the street. The stop lights could be mostly ignored but
it seemed that they were often in synch with my speed. Flashing Pine Street on Sunday mornings
became my weekend ritual.
Soon, inlines replaced quads and I went through a pair of mediocre Rollerblades, two pair of excellent Bauer hockey skates, a worthless pair of K2 speed skates with 110mm wheels on clap frames and some other conventional K2 skate before returning to the Bauers. Inlines presented benefits compared to quads but also some challenges. Approaching my mid-50's injuries and arthritis had taken a toll forcing the once-talented street skater to acknowledge his mortality and decreasing flexibility by hanging up his skates for good. But, I could and still can detect that low growl of urethane wheels at a much greater distance than should be possible.
Part V (Last) - Flashing Pine Street
Fast forward more than a quarter century.
It was about 10PM when Jean, Kasie, Alejandro and I were
about to cross Pine Street at 8th Ave. It
was dark-ish and the stoplight was green for west bound traffic on Pine. Almost zero traffic. Kasie started across against the light when I
heard a familiar, rhythmic low growl. I
stopped her and looking up Pine, we saw a middle-aged guy on a long board with
long hair pulled back that was once dark but now trending towards grey.
Matching beard. Totally relaxed,
traveling about 30 mph, hands casually clasped behind his back. His grey ponytail trailing behind in the vortice
of his passing. Our eyes met and he
smiled a “thanks” for understanding. Using every bit of Pine Street his smooth
turns missed the bad cracks and rough sections. He knew the timing of the lights. He had done this many times before. No drama. The low frequency sound of his wheels faded as
he neared 6th Ave
Damn. I hadn’t
flashed Pine Street for decades.
It really took me back.