I was over at my pal Rob’s house on a rainy Saturday afternoon, up to the usual antics of a couple of bored ninth graders, smoking shitty weed, messing with junk in his garage, wishing we could go surfing, and most importantly sitting around listening to records at loud volumes since his parents weren’t around. Sure, we loved all the loud stuff that people call classic rock now, like Lynyrd Skynyrd, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, etc., but punk and new wave had begun to seep into our little beach town. This was of course The Ramones, The Clash, Psychedelic Furs, The Vapors, The Specials and more. We had the wrap around Foster Grant glasses that seemed “punk” that we bought at the bait and tackle shop, some ripped clothes and checkered shirts/shoes, homemade with sharpies.
All that stuff was great (and still is), but our world was about to get turned upside down. Rob’s older sister was dating this guy, Cameron. Cameron was full-on punk rock. He had engineer boots, spiky hair, earrings, a dog collar and a constant sneer. He was kind of scary. But one day, he barged in to Rob’s room and basically said, “Check these records out.” We proceeded to have our jaws hit the floor with the music that blared out of Rob’s tiny stereo.
I will never forget those records as long as I live. They were Black Flag: Damaged, Dead Kennedys: In God We Trust, Inc., The Angry Samoans: Queer Pills and The Cramps: Gravest Hits. This stuff was way more aggressive, faster, and angrier than anything we’d ever heard, and suddenly we were all in. We knew about something that most other kids didn’t, or didn’t want to. A line was drawn in the sand (it was a beach town so whatever) and more than half of our friend group did not want anything to do with punk or hardcore punk. Screw them. This was our thing, we thought, with all the perspective that angry early teens could have. We wanted all we could get our paws on.
Music Selections: See above because they’re all great.
Finding punk and hardcore records was not simple. Record stores did not have listening stations, so you had to guess by looking at the album covers, with mixed results. Radio stations sure as hell were not playing any of it, and there was little to nothing in mainstream music mags. Finding this stuff became my first experience with word of mouth or insider information searches. Maybe someone’s older sibling brought something back from bigger cities like Richmond or DC. Or perhaps you or your friend lucked out finding something in the “Imports” section. Later, you’d find a record you like and write the label on the back looking for a catalog or stickers. Fanzines and mags like MRR, Flipside and Thrasher became incredible resources for this stuff, yet it was still very much a DIY deal.
Skateboarding was also super underground and DIY at that point, and my increased interest* in it spiked simultaneously with getting into hardcore punk. My friends and I were always looking for new places to ride, ditches, empty pools, and halfpipes we built. Even simple stuff like parking garages with good curbs where you could session without some rent-a-cop coming after you on a rainy day became things we sought. Punk music and skateboarding changed the way we framed the world. It was all about seeing and hearing things that most never considered, finding secrets stashes that most would never know, making it up ourselves.
*I began skateboarding in the mid-late 70s when my grandfather bought me a sidewalk surfer from K&K Toys. Things really took off when I scored a G&S Stacy Peralta warp tail a few years later and by the time I got a Santa Cruz Duane Peters I was all in.
This approach has continued to serve me ever since. It particularly bled into mountain biking for me. I became acutely aware of places where trails could be. I looked for different lines through, over, and off obstacles on trails. It has remained a cornerstone in the riding I do whether it’s finding a new way to ride something familiar or finding something new altogether. The “in-betweens” as I like to say. These days, I am thrilled to have access to many fantastic parks with legal trails, and I have the highest respect for the advocacy groups and trail builders that make them happen. I am a member too, and coach with our local GCA (Georgia’s own version of NICA) team which my office also sponsors. This all feels right.
However, I still really dig the stuff fewer know about, the trails of questionable legal status or provenance. I guess technically I don’t really know about them either, which is a big part of the fun. Riding trails you’ve never been on and hitting obstacles that you may or may not clear. The uncertainty and chaos of it matches the vibe of the hardcore punk and skateboarding I favored in the longtime ago. Coincidentally, I still like those things now and recently took up snowboarding which also falls in line with those pursuits.
Also coincidentally, a large portion of the illegal or pirate trails around me are built by the same people that build the legal stuff. The pirate ones give the builders a chance to make stuff that is unique and often would not be approved by the governing bodies managing the parks. They evolve at a much faster pace than the legit stuff. They are not groomed and often littered with plenty of deadfall that you may or may not get around or over. The stunts/obstacles/jumps/drops are made by builders that know their stuff, so at least you know it won’t cave in as you ride it. It comes back to your skills and level of risk tolerance.
In closing, I understand many will not seek out any of this. It is a niche kind of fun that has become more pervasive in the world but is still well under the mainstream radar. That’s okay. Most can stay on the path, but looking for those ‘in-betweens’ can delight like that single curly fry in your regular fry order.