It was the summer of ’08 and I was feeling alive. I had spent all day cleaning and I was fed up with being stuck in my house. I went to the garage to put laundry in the dryer and out of the corner of my eye I saw my old Sector 9 leaning against the wall looking lonely.
I hadn’t thought about the old skateboard for a while, I forgot the wood was cracked and the once red wheels had turned to an ugly black red-brown color. The label was peeling off and the sunset painting on the bottom of the deck had near faded. It was calling my name.
I grabbed the board, put on some shoes, and escaped from my chores to the air outside. I walked down my driveway of broken asphalt and chunks of dirt and made my way to the street.
Now, let me just say, I hadn’t taken a ride on this board in a while. I was used to my new long board and this short board didn’t look to trustworthy. I was ready for some adventure though, and I wasn’t about to walk back to my house having done nothing.
The street I had brought myself to was on a slope, but this didn’t phase me. I was craving an adrenalin rush. I stepped on the board, gave myself a push, and felt myself fly. It was great, exactly what I was hoping for. Until I started to feel what all skaters dread; the speed wobbles. The feeling of excitement was quickly replaced with panic when my board started to franticly tilt from side to side. In a state of stupidity, I slammed my foot to the ground, only to make things worse.
As I lost my balance, the board sped out from under me. I could feel myself falling, and I knew this would turn out bad. I tried to catch myself with my hands, but they gave way, and the only thing that could stop my fall now, was my face. I closed my eyes tight and let gravity take over.
My face hit the hard black street with a force that would make most people cringe. I could feel my chin skid along the street, my teeth slammed together, and I could feel the skin on my upper lip peel away. My nose was next, no it did not break, but I could feel a rush of blood pour out. My forehead smacked and I tumbled over a few times, hitting my knees against the pavement. Everything went silent until I heard the crash of my board against the curb.
As I was lying on my back in the middle of the street, I tried to comprehend what had just happened. A face plant; I had just face planted in the middle of the street. I started laughing to myself, the last time I had face planted was when I was six. The smile on my face quickly disappeared as I got up and felt the pain rush to every part of my body. I grabbed my board and slowly limped home. I put my old Sector 9 back in the garage where it belonged, and led myself to the bathroom to clean up. I was a bloody mess, my face was bleeding and my body was aching. Never again will I take that board down my street. Until the next time I’m bored at home, looking for an adrenaline rush.