Maybe it's because the image of a top heavy metre stick badly glued upright to a tea tray on wheels enters people's minds when I tell them I'm learning to skateboard, or maybe it's because I'm a 6" 4" twenty-two year old Scot and not a nimble tiny American teenager; but people often respond with a bemused laugh when I tell them of my quest for balance, speed, and that intangible grace/ freedom I might try to articulate later. I don’t understand that bemused laugh. But then again, I don’t think they understand The Quest. It's the kind of bemused laugh people make when, say, trying not to offend The Drunken Person who is passionately telling a story you can't make a word out of, but know is supposed to be hillarious. The kind of laugh reserved for Friend’s Crazy Dad’s surreal jokes that aren't funny. Or maybe it’s only him that gets the joke. Maybe it’s only me and a few others that get The Quest.
Ah. The Quest. It’s been there since I was wee. Since I first watched Marty McFly effortlessly evading the bad guys in Back to The Future on Channel 4 during a rainy primary school in service day. Since I could actually wake up on Saturday mornings and watched skateboarding heroes amongst the lacrosse, handball and Italian football [GOAL-AT-ZEEE-OHHHHH!!!!] on Transworld Sport in the AM on Channel 4 [wow I hope Channel 4 don’t claim royalties if this blog goes huawage]. I’ve always dreamt of skateboarding. I remember my friend’s first skateboard [we were born at the perfect time to get caught up in skateboarding, they were right in fashion when we were wee]. The board was a blue Sonic The Hedgehog one, fishtail in shape, and garnished with lots of cool neon coloured plastic bits. But alas, despite being amazing and beautiful, my parents never allowed me a similar board. I guess they were being protective. Aw. That’s nice. It didn’t do much for The Quest though.
High school, being the whirlwind of exams, crazy teachers, super hot girls (I couldn’t get), massive computer game sessions, basket ball matches, medium hot girls (I couldn’t get), chubby bellies, toy fights, pranks, any level of hotness girls (I couldn’t get) and all the other usual teenage boy antics kind of distracted me away from the allure of that plank of wood with 4 wheels. The experience of jumping on a friend’s board didn’t do much for the cause either. We separated like two polar opposite, highly charged electromagnets, me landing, um, somewhere, and the board CRASHING mightily into the library door. I hobbled away. Ashamed.
And my Mum still wouldn’t have let me have a board anyway.
So, enough of my life story. Bottom line is that I still want to learn to skateboard, I still want to carve up the streets in fast sweeping beautiful arcs, and I still want to tail on the back of cars like some sort of screwy 6”4” Michael J Fox (I have my red gillet at the ready).
And at 22, I’ve made a start. Which I shall tell you about. Soon.
This journey could be interesting, entertaining, and if not, basically I’m counting on it at least being funny. Me embarrassing myself always guarantees a laugh or two.
Bye for now!
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