The Gonz II

I've been bothering Trevor at the local skate shop to wrangle up an oldschool deck for me, and today he came through big time with this re-issue Mark Gonzalez. From the looks of it, the shape harkens back from some time in the early nineties: big kicktail, beefy nose, a nice, wide deck for my large feets. The wheel base is even longer than my old Gonz, which followers of the blog (if they exist) will remember was already quite large, by today's standards. But I took it out for a spin, found a newly paved side road, and tried to get used to it. A couple older guys passed on the sidewalk and said "that's about your size," -- or at least that's what I thought they said. Yesterday I purchased a knee support divice, and it actually seemed to help reduce the ache under my front kneecap. I'm wondering if Rodney Mullen wears one on each knee, and that is why his pants are always drenched in sweat over the knee caps. I used to tell myself that the day I need to wear knee braces or other prosthetics, was the day I'd trade in my board for a frisby or croquet set or something. But here I am, keeping myself together with high density elastic. If I could get a complete body suit made of that stuff, I'd feel (and probably look) just like spiderman. But the new board rides nice: it sails over curbs with no-complies, and the nose is good for the oldschool no-comply shove-its. Still, after twenty minutes of skating I was done for. Sweating and trembling, I dragged myself to the nearest corner store and purchased some Gator ade. The owner gave me a bag for two sour-key candies. I was trying not to look like a drug addict with shaking hands, but the stress of skateboarding has that effect on me. I can swim for an hour straight, but twenty minutes of skating reduces me to a shambling mound of bones and flesh. I sat down on the curb and tried to look dignified, but it was more than I could muster: a nearly forty year old man with receding hairline and greying temples, sweating like a fiend and trying to consume candy and Gatorade on the curb outside a convenience store, purple retro skateboard beside him. More and more it feels like time is a swiftly flowing river, and I'm clinging to a little rock in the middle of the stream, trying not to get swept into adulthood, hoping that old age will somehow pass me by. But it's interesting to cling to a little bit of youth with all one's might, because it reveals things about who we think we are, and what we do to feel that way. I'd give up my skateboard habit if there seemed to be something to move towards, but I'm worried that if I were to let it go, then the best days of my existence would be behind me.