I think I only skated with Junior Wudruff (sp?) once. But it was inspirational. He and Ben Hooker and others were of the generation before us who we looked up to. I skated with him and Ben at the newly built Fred Meyer on Wheaton Way in East Bremerton. I remember Ben slappy 50-50ing the ledge, Danny Seargent style. Amazing. Junior, I just remember being goddamn good. No specifics.
Anyway, I don't remember who posted this photo I stole on Facefuck, but credit due, because it's epic. Rough ground, no nose, huge hydrant, and he's easily going to clear it. Nick White had similar power and finesse. I skated with him more often, so he was the dude I idolized the most. I geeked it completely and actually asked the proverbial (of old) grommet question, "what's the highest thing you ever ollied?" He humored me and after laughing, said, a tennis net. It floored me. What a little grom I was. Fuel for the fire. Ollieiing was the goal at the time.
What really pains me is I used to have that exact Natas board. And later, I treated it like shit, just skating it and not caring about the damage done. I left it in an L.A. garage to be thrown away by an unknowing mother. I just spoke with someone about that the other day. He said it sounded insignificant, like a vintage car that doesn't get seen or driven. I told him it was about the significance of actually having owned it when it came out, and it meant a lot to me as history. It's not about the commercial value, but the nostalgia value. Red Slimeballs, my first pro wheels. I had a mini Natas (w/ the kitten) for about one day before breaking it by dropping my launch ramp on it while trying to move it. My new board was focussed by a fucking launch ramp. Or rather, gravity and a lack of physics planning. (Wedge vs. fulcrum vs. counter-weight.)
So I kick myself about those old boards I vandalized. More on that note later when I shaw/talk about an old Greg Martin board I have that looks like drift wood. Not many people would understand what it means that I want to frame it professionally. To me, it is the symbol of passion and endurance in the face of a lack of means.
Q.
