... when there should be 8. We had a pledge orientation meeting. It was in Ohio. If you showed up, you were in. If you didn't, we're gonna need the shirt back. Eric, this means you punk! Welcome to the team Travis! Wish you could have made it Steve-O!
Load 'em up, move 'em out!
My personal favorite state park.
Just north of Felatio State Park, we shrugged off the 'crete denying rain and proceeded to destroy the Ollie's facility. 11 months since out last demo here, everyone padded up, and immediately ripped, no waiting thank you very much. The wood bowl seemed to have gotten smaller, as grinds and even roll ins seemed like old hat, to some of us more than others. But even though we all got served up a few times by the wooden tranny, we left that place with every ramp having much respect for the Concretins. (sans the street ramps, as not a single bit of our urethane EVER touched the street course-why would it?) The groms were confused, but were able to sound out the word "con - creet - in" and seemed genuinely interested when they asked, "What's that?" Though they never seemed to care about the answer. A bowl and micro session, followed by a wall ride then killer 6' mini session took every bit of our gnar, making a visit the hotel hot tub in Dayton quite necessary. A hotel room screening of Chlorine, followed by mini ramp 101 with Tony and Colin left us with visions of rippage dancing in our heads as we drifted to sleep.
Sunday morning started with a leisurely breakfast and team meeting at Bob Evans. It was here that it was decided that Eric had totally dissed the 'Cretins, and must pay for his impudence. Workin' my ass. I mean, it sucks that he got grounded and got his board taken away, but don't lie to us and say you have to work. Business settled, we headed to a grand creation of wonderous flat 'crete, the DC Shoes SkatePlaza. While bitterly cold, and without an ounce of transition to be found, we still had a good time at Dyrdek's community park. A local peace officer even rolled up to handle security at the Concretins demo, but then left fairly quickly when he realized that not even a 420 bust was gonna be possible.
So close Jon. That's why we call him Gimpy.
"When I was kid, all we had was flat 'crete!"
Holy St. Swinging Richard! No orbs were injured and Mofo was ok.
On to bigger and better things. And hopefully some sunshine. Nothing doin' on the sun. Just east of Blue Ball, Ohio, is the BakerBowl skatepark of Middletown. The park isn't perfect, but being 'Crete snobs, we have pretty high standards. But if you do the work to clean and dry out the bowl - way to go Jon! - wait it out and skate what ya can to stay warm, you will find the lines, and you WILL have a great time here. The "butterfly bowls"
bogarted most of our time, and took every bit of gnar we could dish out, and still screamed DEATH BOWL at ya without missing a beat. I got my street on and surprised Kyle, and myself, with a few rail slides(on a really low rail
) that I haven't done in years. This was definitely Jons park, as he was cruising every where, though Pauly was throwing slash grinds on every inch of coping in the Death Bowl. The session was winding down, but the other bowl was finally beginning to dry out. While Skidzilla was whining about pizza, I decided that I was not gonna go home and be pissed at myself for not at least attempting a roll-in in the mellow but big bowl. Hell, I knew if I attempted it (and didn't die), I was gonna make it. So without any more hype than "fuggit fuggit fuggit" and go... it was E A S Y! While cheers and a second wind of gnar(or pad reek-I'm not sure) wafted through the session, Skid was visibly irritated
. As this meant not only did he HAVE to roll-in now, a satisfying pizza was now even further away from his lips. OMP also got beat down with peer pressure and proceeded to follow suit. Leading to several high speed quint roll in' runs. All inspired by Gimpy's rollin'-manual-roll-in-manual-roll-in line. Buckeye representin'!
WWJD? Hell, that's easy. Jon would just roll-in.
We Rule, You Don't
Trav seemed unfazed by the pressure, and never even looked at a roll-in, we'll have to do something about that. We'll threaten his family next time, or perhaps we could just teach him how to roll-in. That might be more productive. I guess he owes Eric a bit o' thanks, as he wasn't hazed since our rath was focused on Eric's vaginess. And poor Dave, never did get that satisfying pizza as the local joint we stopped at SUCKED. But we rolled on home, south past "Extreme Jesus" and on to the open arms of our ladies. Thanks for letting us go play. You rock.
I'm not really sure how we have so much fun on a roadtrip, without vitamin p or herbs, but we do. Concretins Rule!