Few activities still insight such radical reactions in some polite,
middle class, suburban folk as a hooligan on a piece of maple – with four
urethane wheels attached to it – racing down a hill. They look upon these
youths with expressions of similar disdain, as they roll past, as one might
look upon a junkie shooting up H on a quiet neighbourhood street corner. The
bizarre animosity is palpable. No amount of smiling, or courteous greeting can
change the views of some. Skaters are scum. And it serves them right when they
come-a-crop, skidding across the asphalt, grating away layers of skin and
flesh.
There can be no sympathy for these self-inflicted wounds; in
fact skaters are probably masochists…
Who else would bomb down hills, clinging precariously to the
very edge of balance and control? Then as the inevitable wobble strikes,
throwing out a hand, slamming it into the tarmac and simultaneously whipping
the board perpendicular to the slope, arresting the hurtle towards destruction
with a four wheel slide. Urethane chatters as it disintegrates destroying the
neighbourhood silence; of lawnmowers, crying children and inconsiderately loud
stereos.
Suburbanites are right to be distrustful, fearful, who can
associate with these animals? Can a normal, moderate man find a common ground
upon which to debate? Talk them down from the ledge; bring them back into the
fold of civilised society? Probably not.
Raoul van den Berg |
There might be another way though. On closer inspection they
might not be that different. After a day of hitting the books or the keyboard
they don’t head out to the driving range, or hit the streets for a jog. But is
it really that different?
Come make up your own mind; watch the members of the
Stellenbosch Longboarding club do their thing around Stellenbosch, just drop into the Cornerstone Surf and Skate Shop to find out where the likeliest spot of the day will be.
Ricki Allardice |
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