Scary as the thought may be, apparently one of oldest friends, although we don't talk regularly these days due to distance not choice, didn't "know I was into Poker"!!! Don't ask me. We usually talk biz and tech, so somehow that escaped the equation. Again...don't ask. Mike is now a reader, or as I should probably call him "Green Dragon", based on his appropriate first mode of transportation back in the day.
But I must digress to some of my favorite years. I first met Mike when I was about 12 or so and completely ingulfed by BMX Freestyle. I was always (and would remain through most of my life) the baby of the group. 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19; what's the difference, we all ride. Mike was always the coolest of cats, always willing to give a brake lever or a tire. He would lug all of us riders around to shows and spots around town in The Dragon; and he had a Quarter Pipe at his house; too fucking cool! We did the Toledo Dyno show, the Cinci Haro show, etc., refill, repeat. He even did the financing around Nelson's Half Pipe because the kid had a big yard and parents that didn't mind 20 kids in it every day riding (and falling).
Mike was - and still is - the king of Infinity Circles and smooth tricks as far as I'm concerned. He's also the first guy that I ever saw riding a Haro Master, which I still idolize and the god of brake and spoke dialing in my mind. Dragon taught me how to true a rim and how to lace a brake cable with Teflon greese and align my brake pads so that my brakes squished perfectly to hold my rim in place while popping off a Tailwhip. Mike says that I "shouldn't get a Haro Master now that I'm in my 30's."
Mike's was also the first guy in St. Rose's parking lot to yell "YA!!! When did you learn that trick?!?!?" after I pulled a flawless Cross-foot Steam-Roller Switch-footed Funky Chicken combo. If you know what that is, then just remember that I invented that trick! My reply, "I wasn't thinking and messed up and just went with it." It just seemed natural, which is what happens when you ride every day until you're ready to pass out, but you keep riding because it hurts emotionally not to. Mike always made me want to get better. He's the king, and I wanted his respect.
Grigsby made me push things too. Like the day that he pulled our (since we were practically Flatland partners) first Whiplash. I didn't quit riding that day until 3 hours after the sun had set and I'd pulled at least 4 of them. Scuff tricks were going out of style, but I owned that side of the era and dozens of bald tires to prove it. I once did a Backyard across the entire Northland parking lot, just to show that I could and no one else could; then I turned around in mid-trick without ever missing a scuff and did it all the way back across the parking lot in case anyone thought they might give that new record a shot.
We also made much use of the Kick-Turn Ramp at the end of my street, made out of the crappy lumber used to hold my Uncle's (White Bread's Pops) new riding lawn mower. All of those tricks cleansed, polised and smooth. They all looked so righteous and immune to complication to the crowds that saw us perform over the years. I don't even think we ever got paid, but who cares. We rode for us and no one else.
I didn't need a reason, I just need a semi-flat place. I still ride in my dreams now and again, and I bust fierce moves when only I can see, but I don't care. I know, and that's all that matters. At least until I see Mike and the smoke trailing Green Dragon rumbling down the street. Then I know it's gotta look smooth and effortless; capped off with a little Footwork on the front-side, capped off by some Tailwhip combos and a Decade. Smooth like butter, baby.
Me, Grigs, Richard, Onion Head, Pickle and all the rest. That was our crew. We rode. Didn't need no audience but ourselves, although we had those lots of times too. Mouth and Tom ran the show, all the while we just rode. No script, just some cool music, good friends, a flat parking lot and a Quarter Pipe. Scope the slimmies checkin me out while cruising a Front Yard set up to the Split-footed Decade. Bust a Locomotive Hang-glider twice around just because I can, "YA!!!".
Funny how time in someone's life passes like chapters in a book. Not a bad way to spend your early teenage years.
Mike still thinks I shouldn't get a Haro Master since we're old school. I think that he just might just be too sad and afraid to see me pull off that Cross-foot Funky Chicken rolling combo again.
But I still ride for me. ;-)
Nicholas has left the 3s