Have you ever felt like you were on a highway to hell?

This highway does not have a number or a name, no start, and no end.  Some people stumble across it,
others get lost trying to find it, and some find it and never get off.  Me and six other skate
"changos" stumbled across it and stayed on it for 9 wonderful days.  Personally, I feel like our
drive down that highway was not just a Sunday cruise.  It felt more like a search and destroy mission
into the Northwest bush.  What we searched for was smooth, curved concrete; what we destroyed was our
bodies and mental capacities. 

A small but powerful team of well-trained sk8 soldiers were dropped off in the middle of the bush,
where intelligence reported an abundance of concrete strongholds.  The rendezvous point was BURNSIDE.
 The team's first battle was fast and furious, considering the lack of sleep everyone suffered from.
 The locals there helped us learn lines and feel welcome.  Night fell upon us, and we found ourselves
in a well-recommended funhouse for adults. We ate, drank, and threw our money at naked women.  I
believe this was when I came to realize that the mission we were on was not just another search and
destroy tour, but one of pure and unadulterated decadence.

Decadence is not only a good word to describe that part of the mission, but also to describe the
following battle, NEWBERG, the biggest of the concrete wonderlands we were to ambush.  This was where
General Texas led the attack on the hips and gaps that filled the beautiful landscape.  The heaviest
casualties were also taken here by explosive expert Lt. Faas, who attempted to slay the metal dragon
and failed.  When retreat was called, the team medic made his rounds and the night that followed was
enjoyed with driving, drinking, and setting up secret sniper positions for the attack that was to be
unleashed at first light on LINCOLN CITY.

LINCOLN CITY withstood our attack and fought back, giving us the earliest -- yet burliest -- battle
of the tour.  Lt. Faas took the point and nosepicked the 5-foot vert extension, while the rest of the
team dissected the park by exploring lines and air possibilities.  Later on in the day, after we
acquired more ammunition, we dug ourselves into the BBQ pit and made friend with the locals.  Jacko
the Barbarian showed the team what BARE feet and a skateboard can do to the lips of vert pools.  We
were all humbled and began to feel the effects of being on a highway to hell deep in the NW bush.
 That night we headed south deeper into the bush, but what lay ahead of us could not have been
expected by anybody.

The Southern bush contains four concrete strongholds that forced us to change our fighting strategy:
to two parks in one day.  We began at TALENT.  This place was like somebody took acid and flew a B-252
bombing run.  Lines were not as easy as they looked, but very fun.  ASHLAND was only two (2) clicks
away and the team moved on with hopes of making contact with an undercover intelligence expert,
Special Forces Lt. Kettle.  During the dogfight, Lt. Kettle appeared and helped us surround the
enemy.  The thing about this battle was not only the fun we all had doing bombing runs and destroying
their coping, but that Commando LOU arranged an entrance into what some bush vets call Charlie
Country.  YES!! The team was ready, energy was high, ammunition was acquired, and we charged in with
no apprehension or regard for safety.  I believe that we infiltrated a dimension of life seen only by
a chosen few.  This dimension is guarded by a creature they call MAN BEAR. Fortunately for us, this
Man Bear was no match for our lunatic states of mind.
  
Once MAN BEAR was defeated, the team was free to do and act as lunatics do in the bush.  The morning
after discovering we were no longer in the Man Bear Dimension, we had a debriefing session, where it
was decided that the previous night's actions were best filed as TOP SECRET.  The only thing I am
allowed to say is that on the highway to hell, there are no rest stops.

Second day in the Southern bush did not bring good weather.  JACKSONVILLE was attacked, but we were
forced to retreat due to incoming nepalm in the form of acid rain.  Three (3) clicks and we were at
MEDFORD, hoping to beat the artillery fire from above.  Not much luck was had; some of the team did
come out of the bunker and had a brief battle, but to no avail. Retreat was called.  Going against
orders, we packed up and said good fucking bye to the land of Man Bears, Tippis, Hippies, and
bone-eating children, and got back on the highway to hell headed north.

This is where my memory fails me.  Maybe it was the battle fatigue or help from the medic, I don't
know, but I recollect finding myself back at the adult funland, throwing money at naked girls and not
much else.  The following day we kept heading north, to a land where men drink coffee and naked women
dance behind glass windows.  This is the part of the mission where we encountered a permanent station
of soldiers called "the West Side Warriors" who have entrenched themselves deep into the bush and are
in total control of the land.  This land brought fear, decadence, and complete and total contempt.
 The team battled our longest of our fights here.
  
General Lt. Rob was so smooth in his destruction that we all nominated him for a Purple Medal of
Horror.  There were two battles to fight.  The shit went down super smooth in the Butter Bowl front,
as opposed to the gorilla tactics we had to adopt to stay alive in the Mother Bowl front. These West
Side Warriors are real-life superheroes, not much different than the legion of doom.  Two days of
living in their villas, living life to the full definition of decadence, and our orders came through.
The team was headed out again.

This time it was to bomb the epicenter of modern architecture.  We took positions below the Space
Needle and began our attack.  Concrete, metal, it didn't matter, it was grinded, slid, and carved
like a turkey on Thanksgiving. Since all of our missions had been successful, we were ordered by the
man whose name is "the reason the president is dead" to go help fellow comrades fight in NEWBERG.  We
had done our time there and were ready to hit it again with full force.  This battle was short and
sweet, M-16 in one hand, horses under our feet, and we fought like 12th-century knights slaying nuns.

After the battle, the commander in chief decided it was necessary to split this medal-winning team.
 General Goat and Commando Lou were ordered to head south again to the land of Man Bear.  Rest
assured, they were both well qualified and prepared to fight this battle.  The rest of us were
shuttled back to the adult playland to spend our money looking at naked women and drinking this thing
they call alcohol while we waited to be shipped back to home base.

As I write this tale of our tour of duty, I cannot remember who went where or when, but I do know
that my highway to hell somehow ended up in a plane drinking Nathason Creek Red wine, watching women
knit potholders, and trying to figure out how I ended up with an empty wallet.

A word to the wise, there is a toll before you get off the highway to hell, and nobody gets through
without paying.

Pay the toll, Motherfucker,

LT. Candy Striper, Fernando