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| Soulriding (2099 Posts)
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Soulspeak |
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On 4/26/2001 Mickey D
wrote in from
(132.239.nnn.nnn)
Skating can make the toughest day in the world better, as we all know. The longest week in the world for me, no sleep, homework due all the time, midterms on my ass, and on top of that I just got disqualified from a position for the summer working with an engineering company and the San Diego Sheriff's office due to a bit of my past that they didn't care for, regardless of the fact that it has been at least six months in the past. What could possibly be worse? Fortunately, my new RIII showed up two days ago. After realizing I needed riser pads, my adventure began. I was so engrossed with selecting a varnish, picking up risers, tape, shooting the breeze with skate shop and home depot employees, my day began to get better. Then I got home, mounted up my risers and whatnot, and bam, off I skated into the night. There is nothing like the quiet rasp of shoes on unfinished wood, nothing but smooth asphalt underneath and cool air around, concentrating not on all the crap that has gone on but only on carving a hard line down some steep hills. Even my broken and casted arm was not hurting or even bothering me. Everything was in line, and my path even carried me over to a good friend's house who I haven't seen in a long time. I walked in to my apartment twenty minutes ago, face glistening with sweat, enormous grin on my face, totally satisfied with the evening and at ease. My non skating roommates just looked at me like I'm weird, but I just laugh inside and dwell on the simple joy that they'll never know, much as I try. What WAS a crappy week has been totally redeemed in less than an hour. Something only a skater can understand. . . And now, fulfilled, to bed, to dream of smooth asphalt and empty streets.
Ryan
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On 4/26/2001
david
wrote in from
(209.179.nnn.nnn)
first off, this post is inspired by my newly bought board, a 33 inch cambered greenbrew pintail with r2s.
walking up the hill, i am anxious to begin carving, but i must wait to get higher. i never thought i could carve the steep, narrow roads of my neihbiorohood so easily. back and forth, the feel and sound of the wheels struggling to grip the road puts a smile on my face. about half way down the road on my first run a truck comes up behind me, i think to myself "damn, now i gotta stop my carve" and i pull off the road and stop on the sidewalk. the guy in the truck then stops and says "hey, right on man, i did''nt wanna ruin your flow, i got one of those longboards with big wheels to" nice i said, and walked up the hill again, the smile on my face growing even bigger. once again check for cars, take a look down at the asfault asfault, take a deep breath and take one kick to push off. the cycle repeats. i come home breathly heavily and totally exsasted, grinning from ear to ear, it was the end of a long day.
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On 4/25/2001
Mitch T
wrote in from
(198.80.nnn.nnn)
Morning Soul
Lately after dropping my kids off and before hitting the office, I've been doing some slalom practice to get ready for a possible entry into the world championships. Today I thought I'd do something with a little more soul. I went over to the Rockville Mansion. Beautiful scenery, about a half dozen hills to pump and carve that run off into parking lots or other hills and when you reach the bottom of one hill, another hill or the steps to the top of the same hill aren't far away. This morning was kind of gray but the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, exhilirating run after exhilirating run, building up the confidence pumping at speed, feeling a little closer to invinceable on my board.
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On 4/24/2001 lindsay
wrote in from
(203.97.nnn.nnn)
Mad Hack,
that was the parking garage over the road form the hospital in christchurch, new zealand.
Holidays right now, I went down for a sess yesterday and found it so
full of cars there was no room to bomb it. Been keen to take my
big plank down and noseride it aye, maybe in a haunch, right on the tip.
When it's empty I get uninhibited, flailing my arms around, winding
up the carves till they slide out, and like I said, hunching down on the
the nose and making hand jive, maybe even some silver surferesque
posturing, hey it's my fantasy!
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On 4/23/2001
Mad Hack
wrote in from
(211.123.nnn.nnn)
Lindsay,
I remember that post. It was at UBC, wasn't it? That place has got to be good for something I guess. (If it wasn't there, forgive me.) I'm originally from Coquitlam right at the base of Burnaby Mountain and we were blessed for about five years with a huge condom.complex on the mountain, complete with no buildings, perfect pavement, wiiiiidde streets with no traffic. We rode it a lot, but also made a mandatory pilgrimage every Christmas Day for some wicked downhill carving. I had this four foot mahogany plank with no grip tape. I had different zenlike theories about that board, and it definitely improved my balance, but it never bit me 'til it died so maybe I was right. It remains a totem on my wall, testament to days when my heart and the perfect line were one. There's nothing like cold urethane on freezing pavement to get the speed up and the fear factor to the level you need when you're sixteen. I'm with JeffS, though, I don't really need as much any more...
Things get shuffled to the archives pretty fast here. Guess we need space for that slalom board, eh?
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On 4/22/2001 lindsay
wrote in from
(203.97.nnn.nnn)
Anybody remember my post about the parking garage with the
flawless polished concrete, 8 storeys, almost always empty,
with no cameras?
Well it closes at 8.45 pm every night. But I found the the
elevator continues to operate until 9pm, and that if one
chills out on the roof past 9, the whole place gets locked
up tight, grills on the entrances, empty of cars, the
attendant gone home...and one is locked in with 8 quiet,
brightly lit storeys to play with.
So I'm just doing whatever I like...take levels 8 and 7 in a tuck,
sit on my ass for levels 6 and 5, maybe take the next level
switch stance for something different, whatever. Pretty nice aye.
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On 4/20/2001 MickNJapan
wrote in from
(203.216.nnn.nnn)
Born in raised in Cali (riding Alva and Dog Town fat boards in Anaheim Hills on the ass when the speed wobbles kept us off our feet) , after some strange twist in life end up in Tokyo at 35 working like a dog in the city wearing a suit from 9 to 9. Still feeling like that teenager at heart, but the body not recovering as fast as it used to (pre-middle-age crisis?). In Hawaii for a friend's wedding, spy an interesting looking Bareback IndyRacer (never heard of at the time) at a surfshop. Total impulse purchase. My friends thinking I am f%$#ing crazy.., me justifying this may be the last chance to buy a skate in this lifetime (now knowing this not to be true). What the hell, a b-day present for myself. Blasting through the Waikiki tourist infested outdoor mall being chased down by security guys feeling that punk-ass satisfaction of old (1980's revisted on 21st century technology and big fat wheels).
Return to Tokyo a few days later, realising that taking two steps to the left from my apartment i am standing at the top of a beginner to intermediate slope, residential back street. Conservatively feeling out the new toy. Getting up early one Saturday morning, I find myself cruising the hood to see what it has to offer in the way of intermediate to advanced. Find it! Unfortunately the advanced factor is often enhanced by blind intersections (and cars not on the lookout for wannabe teenage skaters). 20 years ago, there would have been some blood on the asphalt. I have learned to yield to big steel Toyotas now. But after reading some of the soulride stories, I know it has happened to me too. I want to push the limits of this beast without the fear of metal to flesh impact. Cruising one weekend in Tokyo's version of Central Park, I pass the baggy clothed ollie popping, railsliding shredders to discover a group of local, more "mature" guys on Sector 9's doing some unreal manuevers. We bond over beers checking out each others rides. The oneway info exchange begins, ending with lessons of powerslides in preparation for the early spring ride down Mt. Fuji! Roads still closed due the offseason snow that falls into May. If you have ever seen a picture of Fuji it is STEEP. I bought a helmet and pads today. Praying for sun and making sure I have my national health insurance card with me, I wait for the boyz to pick me up...
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On 4/20/2001 Jeffs
wrote in from
(206.168.nnn.nnn)
Ahh, that lovely cocoon of total, focused concentration. When your in the "zone" it's a feeling like no other. The closest I've been in awhile is pushing the speed envelope on a deck. My envelope, any how. Everything slows down, the focus, the clarity, the KNOWING. Nothing matters but the now. Knowing a lapse in concentration can cause serious pain only adds spice to the moment. I used to live for it. Now that I'm rediscovering it, I wonder how I lived with out it. May the zone be with you!
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On 4/20/2001
Mad Hack
wrote in from
(211.123.nnn.nnn)
A Case for Racing
Time, truth and beauty. Inseparable in conception and perception. All three exist discretely in the moment and continuously through space—all three are relative to perception: Franz Klammer frozen suspended both in a moment and forever in Innsbruk in 1976; Henry Hester sliding around a cone at La Costa the same year. Both riders would recognize those photographed instants as points along a line, and as points viewed from a perspective they did not have; in the case of the Hester photo it is the only instant I saw but it lasts somehow in my memory, possibly because it resonates with a slide and a cone from my own infinitely less stellar past.
All of us who move through space (or who move other things through space—balls, discs) understand the truth and beauty of a line, and the expansiveness of a moment. Carving is the realization of these things in space. There is a perfect line for a perfect occasion, and hitting the perfect spots along the line create the line itself: in racing this translates eventually into a racer's time and elation, in freeriding into elation without a name. The two activities are inseparable, for though a race course may be arbitrary and set it does not determine the line taken to the bottom of the hill. There is a plastic, flexible tunnel the same shape as our body and board that we travel through at and along every moment through which we pass. This is the true line. Anybody who has seen the bare wisp of snow coming off Ingmar Stenmark's carving skis, or the line Bobby Piercy's head and shoulders followed down a hill has seen the perfect line; who has seen Klammer's gold medal run, wild, out of control but inside the envelope, or who has been there themselves, playing with parked cars, gravel and potholes, has experienced it. Playing with the forces of nature, dancing in the flux, is what constitutes our souls. Speed and beauty are both products of time and space, and are both relative to our perception and use of them.
Find the line and be alive.
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On 4/19/2001
Jeffs
wrote in from
(209.240.nnn.nnn)
I live on the plains of eastern Colorado. Don't ask why. Any way, I was skating the only hill worth talking about for many miles when a herd of deer came out of the brush. They started to run off, then the stopped on the opposite side of the hill in a field and watched me come down the hill. That entire herd of deer stood on the side of the hill and watched me walk up the hill and skate back down the whole time I was there. Pretty cool. I guess they were trying to figure out what that crazy human was up too.
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On 4/18/2001 roger
wrote in from
(198.206.nnn.nnn)
Chris,
I think we are all smiling when reading your post. Howling wheels on the way day, and listening to the other animals on the walk up, can't help but imagine the deer giving a nod of approval.
A couple of weeks ago I put RII-150mm on my 38" Fibreflex pintail and love it. Perfect for putting some soul into those smaller streets! Mine is dialed in with Bones hardcore blue bushings and Power Paw 65mm center-sets wheels.
Still smiling!
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On 4/18/2001
Chris
wrote in from
(158.252.nnn.nnn)
I just got a new 38" Fibreflex pintail and some Fu Manchu's for my Loaded Gun so I drove to my usual quiet spot where I like to try out new gear or techniques. Well when I get there cars a parked all over the place from the people practicing softball, bummer. So I drive around some of the hilly neighborhoods looking for a nice spot to ride, too busy, too shallow, to rough, bummer. Then I remember a new road I saw going in a few months ago, it was closed off then because they were blasting. I drive up and see the road is open and when I come over the crest I am looking at brand new roads in a subdivision with no construction yet, still a lot of trees around and a beautiful view of Bellingham Bay with Whidby and the other islands out in the sound, definitely not a bummer. There are only a few pebbles and patches of dirt so I walk down the hill and kick as much as I can off to the side. The streets a super smooth kind of steep but really narrow, Bellingham just seems to build them that way. So I grab the Gun to try out the new wheels unfortunately my skills are stilla little rusty and the board is kind of long for street and I couldn't link up more than a couple of cut backs together before I felt like it was going to become a bomb the hill situation and I'm not quite ready for that yet. So I got out the 38" with R-II 150mm right away I new it was the right board for the hill. I pushed myself across the road to the curb, frontside cut back fully extended really nice lean wheels just starting to break loose, YEA. Heading across the road again, backside cut back, knees bent, hanging way out, wheels just starting to break loose, YEA. It was that way down the hill when it starts to flatten out I pump a few times to keep the speed up and throw a few more carves in before the road gets really pebbly and sandy. Back up the hill a little higher than last time, same thing cut back city wheels always on the verge of breaking loose, major grin, giggling to myself. Back to the top again, take in the view listening to the birds and frogs and who knows, down the hill again. Start walking back up the hill again and I here something crashing in the trees and what come walking out, three dear less than twenty yards away feeding on the easy to get new growth, they didn't really pay me much attention as I walked by. Back down the hill again really fun carves one hand inches from the street, I steal a quick look over at the deer as I go past and they are watching me carve the hill, it was surreal. The next run they didn't even care any more. I kept making runs down the hill until my legs starting getting tired, the sun hit the tops of the trees starting to though a few shadows and the deer trundled off into the trees again. I figured it was a good time to call it a day. I jumped in the van cranked up Miles Davis Live Evil and drove home with a huge grin on my face. Hope it's not raining tomorrow. Enjoy! Chris
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On 4/17/2001 DanG
wrote in from
(199.95.nnn.nnn)
Very sewet Mad Hack, very sweet. Thats what this forum is all about.
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On 4/16/2001
Jeffs
wrote in from
(206.168.nnn.nnn)
Mad Hack, I may not know much about art, but I know what I like. Now that's what I call poetry! Sweeet! Music to my ears...
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On 4/16/2001
Mad Hack
wrote in from
(203.216.nnn.nnn)
Potential: road swelling through the cambered cradle below, through limbs into downhill feet resting, heels against asphalt; electric dust of dusk alive, anticipation suspending action; the hill is itself steep enough to impel its own completion, its base a disappointment even before pushoff, is itself an enactment of gravity—an expression of descent. The last line always strings out the same, always leads, rain running down a dry window; the last turn alive in the first and containing, remembering, the pressure of the first at its end. The reclining western sky removes detail and adds intensity, smoothing while brightening surface; the memory of last night’s rain remains alive in both cedars and rolled concrete curbs redirecting the lime green serpents rocking below, still breathing the heat of the days sun in the blacktop. Some momentous compulsion incites the stone beast from its ageless sleep, uprooted feet grounded against silica crystal, as the force that had held it static itself frees it forward and down. Feet still, waiting,, gravity blooming manifest in pitch and friction voicing its approval in the plastic metallic tones particular to the occasion, the hill alive and rotating, downward force vectored into acceleration. The drop, the unmakeable made, the complicated simplified. Then the quiet walk home. Potential realized.
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On 4/15/2001
Brian
wrote in from
(152.163.nnn.nnn)
Carving is the best.....I'm always dreaming of utopia; that freshly paved hill that's about 6 lanes wide with no traffic as far as the eyes can see. No need to push off to get rolling because the hill never ends, plenty of time to pick up speed. About every 20 seconds you slice your wheels into the pavement....feels just like hitting the bottom of that perfect 8' glassy left or right. Still rolling with the setting sun at your back you spy the branch of tree draped about 3'6" over the shoulder......yeaaa, grab the rail and pull into that barrel, get spit out and smile.
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On 4/14/2001 grinch
wrote in from
(12.72.nnn.nnn)
i have no money for gas to drive to work. none to go out to the bars. none to cover all the bills. not enough to eat enough. not enough to have a girlfrined. don't know how i'm gonna make ends meet, but i'm on my board sooooooo much more these days because of all of this, and at least there's that.
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On 4/14/2001 Kendar
wrote in from
(24.178.nnn.nnn)
I can't wait till it warms up so I can carve at dusk with the warm evening summer breeze. Nothing could be finer. At 33, I've lost my need for speed, but not for carving. My neighbors must think I'm loonie but who cares, slow stand-up carving is just so frikkin fun. Just got my second board today (Gravity Hypercarve, my other board is Sector9 Supercruiser), so I guess I'm hooked!
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On 4/6/2001
Tony
wrote in from
(65.5.nnn.nnn)
lisa, Hope Ranch and Montecito have the longer hills with less cars. Check out Cuervo to the beach. You could join our gang.Tony
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On 4/4/2001 Lisa
wrote in from
(198.68.nnn.nnn)
Just moved to Santa Barbara--in search of a good carve...Can anyone direct me?? THanks
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On 3/27/2001
Speedy
wrote in from
(129.8.nnn.nnn)
Hey, I know this isn't really a writing forum, but I thought you guys might like this. It's not factualy, but I sure as hell wish it was!
~Speedy
* * * * *
He came around the first corner in a tight tuck, every ounce of his body grounded in the pavement. "Smooth," he thought, as he dropped into another wide arc "So smooth." It was beautiful- the late afternoon sun glinting off the ocean, still and flat as a pool table. Logan dropped one knee, and carved another arching turn back into the left lane. The street was deserted, a rare treat in late summer. As he flew back to the right, he reflected on the gala going on downtown. Logan was glad he wasn't down there with all the tourists. They could keep the downtown, he'd stick with the smoother urban streets of upper Coral Beach. He made a sweeping turn into the corner parking lot, and coasted across to the school. He sailed over the driveway ramp onto the sidewalk, and rode down the narrow cement strip. He made a wide sweep through the paved courtyard and then into the alley. Gliding down the alley, his thoughts wandered back to the ocean and the sunset. Logan shot out of the alley, and across Pacifica Street. A sweeping curve brought him back into the right lane and into line with the pier, almost a mile off. "Sweet," he said out loud "Damn sweet."
Pacifica wasn't as steep and he let himself glide. Tucking his arms behind his back, he leaned into the wind, watching the gulls ride the air currents. He smiled to himself as some jocks roared by in a truck, yelling obscenities about getting off the road with that thing. It wasn't a tank, that was for sure. But equally sure was that they would never know the feeling of flying like he did. He flicked his stiff board back and forth a few times, cutting down speed in preparation for the turns ahead. He knew this hill. And he knew the gravel in the second curve, very intimately in fact. The street was wide and empty here, newly paved and smooth as a pane of glass. Logan laughed, and threw some gaudy carves, slicing across the entire street, stopping just short of the curb on either side.
Logan went into a low crouch, and leaned into the first turn, letting the back wheels drift just enough to take the edge of the speed. He stood up quickly, and dragged his back foot, dropping his momentum to a more sane speed. Then, dropping back into his tuck, he carved into the second turn. The one was tricky, a tight turn in a narrow street, and with gravel to boot. There was always the temptation to ride in the left lane, but that could be suicide. Instead, Logan focused on staying in the cars' wheel tracks, hoping to avoid the worst of the gravel. He came out of the turn, still standing on his board, and instantly whipped it around into the third and last curve. There was a low hiss from the wheels, and then he was out, gathering speed on the straight-away. He sped down lower Pacifica, headed straight into the metropolis of downtown Coral Beach.
Grinning proudly for handling the Banzai Curves so nicely, he stood up as his speed gradually waned. He took the opportunity a parking lot offered to get on to the sidewalk, and weaved in and out of a few pedestrians. Logan watched a cop car turn his way, and stepped on the nose. The board popped up behind him, and he was nothing more then another shopper in the district of skate shops and seaside restaurants. Flushed and grinning, he soon melted into the crowd and disappeared.
Note from the webmaster: Several soulless posts were recently moved elsewhere. Sir Speedy's post from Jan-1 is being re-released to get the flow going again.
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On 3/18/2001
jakey p and chloe f
wrote in from
(195.92.nnn.nnn)
New bearings fresh grip tape clean skate shoes. These are things that money can buy you.
A smooth gradient the sun on your face the wind in your hair and the scabs on your knees.
These are the things that matter, these are the things that only love will get you, these are the things that we keep secret from the outside world.
Why? Because if everyone knew it wouldn't be special. And you and I would not have a bond irrespective of nation, age or sex. Dont let those who do not understand make it something wrong. Strength and honour.
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On 3/18/2001 E-board
wrote in from
(24.132.nnn.nnn)
Out in the hills,up on my deck.
sun in my face wind in my back.
A hello here,a how are you there.
I am one,whole,free of care.
Balance discipline concentration
floating along in a state of meditation
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On 3/12/2001
cheshirepus
wrote in from
(160.227.nnn.nnn)
Riding...
Riding on a plank, all worries aside.
The wind in my hair blows a breath of life,
I'm nowhere else, just here for the ride.
Bomb that hill, man... Fly brother, fly.
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On 3/8/2001 rulio
wrote in from
(208.30.nnn.nnn)
carvin' the bowl with 10 toes over the nose!
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