Ollie Ollie Ollie Get Yer Skateboard Here

Rodney Anonymous has a great story about Dave Blood over on his blog today. It's the kind of thing that I remember some of us doing back in the day. When did we grow up? Well, I don't think I grew up so much as got tired. When did we slow down?

It seems like yesterday we were just sitting in the Burger King next to The Paradise and The Dead Milkmen walked in, handed us bumper stickers and stole our french fries. I still have mine stuck to the bottom of my skateboard. I used to love my skateboard. Perfect ground transportation after riding the T. When I got my first apartment I would do tricks in the kitchen because there was nobody around to stop me. I would spend hours cleaning the bearings. When I moved onto the boat it got the boats name painted on the deck. A joke no one ever got but me. That's OK. I love jokes only I get.

I should ride more but there's nowhere to go. Beverly is even more uptight about the wholesale criminalization of skating then Marblehead ever was. There was a time when I wouldn't have cared. Now though, it would be pretty embarassing to be arrested for skating at 37. So my skateboard sits in the basement. A relic of my wreckless youth. Waiting for the day when I'll ride back over to Dave Who's house or Dylan's Dad's office with a bottle of grain alcohol and some cold pills. Perhaps those days are better left behind me. Maybe my poor skateboard will get used to retirement, occasionally coming out to move heavy furniture around. Dylan and the all of the Daves are fond memories. I may have given up skating and Everclear for sitting quietly and Tawney Port but I can still ollie in my kitchen if I want to.