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| Bud Baum punks out an over vert kickturn in the Devil Dog fullpipe. |
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We proceded to get busy with the session. Screeching wheels and the BOOM of a slam or a bail echoed inside the pipe. Our wheels kicked up a powdery substance, flour we assumed, which tightened up my throat, and made us all cough. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth to breathe between runs. Each of us made it over the hole and went for the over vert thrusters. There's a rhythm to the pump in a pipe that tight. We paid the toll loudly. Fernando said he could see my slam coming on my way up the wall, even though the board shot out on my way down. Speed was in there for the taking. Fun was had by all.
We sessioned for a solid twenty to thirty minutes before a late 60s muscle car pulled up, a Pontiac LeMans, I think. Some hesher was driving, Justin's neighbor, long blond hair, silly decals on the back window, the last type of guy we expected to be hassled by. I guess the noise was interfering with his Sunday afternoon relaxation. He expressed the fact that we weren't allowed to be there, that we were tresspassing, on his way to the store for a halftime six-pack, I reckon. We climbed out and went back to Justin's house, had our cold ones under the shade of a big oak tree, and then drove back to the city. Mission accomplished. | previous | next | |
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