Skateboards, Polaroid cameras, meatball subs and a broken hand, this story has it all. Let me start from the beginning. Since Munson showed up a few months ago from Florida, the entire gang has been talking about learning to skateboard. Why? Well, why not? We all had Skateboards, some of us were more skilled than others (Emily and I had about as much experience skating as we do hunting whales).
Fast forward a few weeks and there are nine skateboards floating around the office. Yanne and I had previously gotten a little carried away at a silent auction and, well, we bought a few skate decks. Yanne, always with the most fun ideas, said "Hey, lets ride our boards to lunch". It was a beautiful Friday up here in Sun Valley, Idaho, and we like to take advantage of the warm weather while we still can. The target was an easy, slightly uphill destination about two miles away on a smooth bike path. Easy enough.
The first part of our trip was pretty mild. Nobody got hurt, it was slow, and Emily was wearing a ski helmet. We arrived at lunch, talked about weird dreams over beer (or apple juice in Emily's case). I may have exaggerated on the meatball subs, I just really wanted to order two like I was in the movie Point Break.
Heading back to Violent Little HQ from the restaurant is a nice, gentle downhill, with one slightly steeper section at the beginning. I'd recently quadrupled the amount of time I'd spent on a skateboard so I thought "Shit, I got this". I hopped on and quickly discovered what loose trucks and speed wobbles are all about. I ditched it and rolled a few times before coming to rest in some sage brush. My hands suddenly looked like raw hamburger, but other than my ego nothing was too badly damaged.
We got that one crash out of the way, so it was just time to cruise the easy section. We were getting our legs under us, learning to carve, having fun. Cars passing by were looking at us, probably jealous that they don't have as much fun as we do. I was admiring the ski hill in the distance when all of a sudden I discovered a skateboarder's worst enemy...a pebble. This time I wasn't as fortunate and planted all my weight into my hands. If my hands looked like hamburger before, they just looked like unprocessed meat now. I brushed it off, Munson and I posed for Polaroid photos, and everyone driving by laughed at me (I ain't even mad). Once we got back to the shop, I knew I'd fractured my hand. It's not the first time I've done it, so I already knew what was up. I cleaned the wounds with some Dr. Little's Aids Cure, did the sensible thing and spent the next few hours with a cold beer in my hand.
Safety is key.Thanks for reading,