I
decided to take a sideways run-up and try an ollie up the kerb and
onto the footpath that borders the carpark – the kerb isn't very
high, but at this point I was still yet to land anything other than a
regular flat ollie, so I wasn't sure how it was going to go. Anyway,
cue the inspirational music maestro, because I did it – kicked up,
jump, landed on the higher part of the kerb and kept rolling,
maintaining my balance. Let the trumpets play!
I
went back for another shot, just to prove to myself that it wasn't a
fluke the first time – “I am the greatest bateskoarder the world
has ever seen”, I thought to myself in a moment of self-indulgent
weakness. Up again, landed again. This time though, I had an
audience; a decrepit, old Asian man with a walking frame had stopped
next to the part of the kerb I was jumping up and had decided to
watch me. ME! He saw what I was doing, and saw that it was good! So I
went back again, and again, and again, I landed four of those
jump-up-the-kerb-trickydoos in a row. It felt good. Something about
the whole situation felt kind of off though. While I knew that I
liked the appreciation of this near-invalid who, let's be fair, was
probably just happy to be watching anything other than rent
collection happen in his tired little corner of the world, it felt
awkward to be examined so intently. He just stood there and watched,
smiling at me and nodding each time I completed my little trick. I
felt inadequate – I knew that there was nothing else I could offer
him, I had no other tricks up my sleeve; no more songs in my
repertoire. Every time I paced back to jump up the kerb another time
I felt like I owed him something more for his continued interest, but
there was nothing else to give.
Eventually, after like, I dunno, let's say three minutes? After about three minutes I jumped back on my board, went over to the other side of the parking lot and grabbed my bag from behind the car where I'd put it before. I had a few sips of water, then walked over the metal grate at the entrance to the car park and started skating away down the street. I waved goodbye to the frail old man who had been my number one fan for the afternoon and turned down another side street, then another, finally making my way to Aldi to buy some milk, razors, cheese, onions, lettuce. The story trails off here, and there's no moral... probably because for a moral to be found, there has to be some sort of challenge to be overcome. This afternoon was nice, and that man was even nicer. I hope he comes out again one time, but maybe not for a few weeks so I can hopefully have something new to show him next time. I'll start working on my handstand I guess.
Peace, Taco.
Eventually, after like, I dunno, let's say three minutes? After about three minutes I jumped back on my board, went over to the other side of the parking lot and grabbed my bag from behind the car where I'd put it before. I had a few sips of water, then walked over the metal grate at the entrance to the car park and started skating away down the street. I waved goodbye to the frail old man who had been my number one fan for the afternoon and turned down another side street, then another, finally making my way to Aldi to buy some milk, razors, cheese, onions, lettuce. The story trails off here, and there's no moral... probably because for a moral to be found, there has to be some sort of challenge to be overcome. This afternoon was nice, and that man was even nicer. I hope he comes out again one time, but maybe not for a few weeks so I can hopefully have something new to show him next time. I'll start working on my handstand I guess.
Peace, Taco.
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