“A lot of my friends are actors during these years, and they tell me they could get me into the business if I want. I’m kinda thinking about it, and have even been contemplating various agents, but when it comes right down to it, I’m not willing to sacrifice my skateboarding for that or anything else. Anyway, my actor friends are always depressed, waiting for someone to call them with work. Who needs that? I can skate and party whenever I like, so I never have to wait for anything.”
I get a chance to dabble, though. It all comes together in the movie Thrashin’. Now, this picture would never win an Academy Award. In fact, it’s considered cheesy at the time, but over the years it will become a cult classic. (If you see the movie, I’m the skater with a green streak in his hair who flies over a car. I even have one line—one word actually, “Wimps!”—that I say to my crew’s rivals during a break-dancing scene.)
The film is about a conflict between a street gang called the Daggers and another crew called the Ramp Locals. I’m a Dagger.
David Hackett reads for the role as the lead Dagger, but he butts heads with one of the “suits” and doesn’t get the part. He would have been good as the bad guy, Hook, but that part is landed by an established actor who’s about to become a close friend of mine, Robert Rusler. The film also stars Josh Brolin and Sherilyn Fenn, but the producer rejects Sherilyn’s boyfriend, a young actor who’s been hanging around named Johnny Depp. Also on the set is Catherine Hardwicke. This is Catherine’s first job in the movies, and she works as the production designer. You might know her name from her later work as the director of movies such as Lords of Dogtown and Twilight.
Don’t see Thrashin’ for the plot, but if you’ve ever been into skating or punk rock, you’ve gotta check it out. Thrashin’ features the best skaters in the world, including TA, Tony Hawk, Jesse Martinez, Alan Losi, Cab, Lester Kasai, Tony Magnusson, Mike McGill, Billy Ruff, Steve Olson, Kevin Staab, Dave Duncan, and Eddie Reategui. D. David Morin plays the announcer, a role he regularly plays at skateboarding contests. Also see Thrashin’ for the punk music: the movie features Devo, Fear, the Circle Jerks, the Screaming Sirens, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
In May 2011 there was a cast-and-crew reunion to celebrate Thrashin’s twenty-fifth anniversary, and a lot of the skaters from the movie showed up, including Steve Olson, an amazing skater who was injured performing a stunt for the movie. Producer/writer Alan Sacks was also at the screening, and it was fun to look back with him on that time. Catherine reminded us all how crazy it was, especially on the first day of shooting the race scene in Benedict Canyon. There’s a scene in the movie where legendary skater Jesse Martinez is being hauled away by the paramedics. He’s not acting in that scene. Those are real paramedics and he has a real broken leg. Jesse and nine other world-class skateboarders were rushed to the emergency room on the first day.
Another scene Catherine brought back to mind is one where the Daggers burn the ramp of their rivals, the Ramp Locals. I wasn’t there for that, but I heard that people nearly got torched when the ramp was set ablaze. If you see the movie, watch TA running for his life in that scene. According to Alva, “There were so many fumes coming off that ramp that as soon as a match was lit, it just went up in flames. They’re lucky the DP [director of photography] was ready and got it on film. They’re even luckier that nobody got hurt.”
Thrashin’ is so much fun because the entire skate world is involved. Rusler remembers things this way:
I’VE ALREADY DONE A FEW MOVIES, LIKE WEIRD SCIENCE AND NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2. AFTER BEING TOLD I HAVE THE PART IN THRASHIN’, I WALK OUTSIDE AND CHRISTIAN AND STEVE OLSON AND THESE OTHER HOT SKATERS, MONDO AND MUNSKE, ARE THERE TO AUDITION. BACK INSIDE, TONY ALVA IS HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH THE PRODUCER, ALAN SACKS. THEY’RE DISCUSSING USING CHRISTIAN: SACKS IS APPREHENSIVE TO HIRE HIM CUZ HE ISN’T EIGHTEEN YET. I MET CHRISTIAN WHEN WE WERE KIDS AT MARINA SKATEPARK, BUT I DON’T REALLY KNOW HIM WELL YET. TA HAS BEEN HIRED AS A CONSULTANT AND ALSO AS ONE OF THE ACTORS FOR THE FILM. I TELL ALAN AND THE FILM’S DIRECTOR, DAVID WINTERS, “YOU’VE GOTTA HIRE THIS KID,” SINCE CHRISTIAN IS ALREADY THE MAN. I TELL THEM HE NEEDS TO BE MORE THAN A STUNT DOUBLE, BUT ONE OF OUR GANG, THE DAGGERS. ONCE THEY MEET WITH CHRISTIAN THEY REALIZE I’M RIGHT AND THEY HIRE HIM ON THE SPOT.
WE’VE BEEN FILMING A WHILE AND IT’S MY BIRTHDAY. ONE OF THE ASSISTANTS COMES TO ME AND SAYS WE HAVE ABOUT TWO AND A HALF HOURS BEFORE I HAVE TO WORK AGAIN. TA SAYS, “COME ON, THE CHILI PEPPERS ARE PLAYING THIS CLUB IN HOLLYWOOD AND YOU’RE COMIN’ WITH US.” I SAY, “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND: I CAN’T JUST LEAVE A SET. IF THEY CALL FOR ME AND I’M NOT HERE, I’LL GET IN A LOT OF TROUBLE.” TA AND THE OTHERS ARE EGGING ME ON, DUTCH-RUBBING ME, TELLING ME TO TAKE IT EASY. UNDER PRESSURE I AGREE TO CRUISE WITH THEM AND WE END UP AT CLUB LINGERIE, WHERE WE SMOKE AND DRINK AND DO MUSHROOMS. I’M HAVING A BLAST, THE TIME OF MY LIFE, WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD. THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST SHOWS I’VE EVER SEEN: THE CHILI PEPPERS ARE JUST RAGING AND SO ARE WE, SLAMMING IN THE PIT.
BY THE TIME WE GET BACK TO THE SET, I’M PEAKING ON ’SHROOMS AND THE ENTIRE STAFF IS LIVID. TURNS OUT THE PRODUCTION CREW WERE GOING TO SURPRISE ME FOR MY BIRTHDAY BY HAVING A STRIPPER JUMP OUT OF A CAKE. I FEEL BAD THEY WENT TO ALL THAT TROUBLE, BUT I DON’T REGRET WHAT I DID THAT DAY. THAT DAY WAS UNFORGETTABLE.
AFTER THE MOVIE WRAPS I CONTINUE HANGING WITH CHRISTIAN. I HAVE MY OWN HOUSE, BUT I LIVE AT HIS PLACE MORE THAN MY OWN. SOME OF THE MOST MAGICAL TIMES OF MY LIFE ARE HANGING WITH OLSON, CHRISTIAN, AARON, BLOCK, AND ALL THOSE GUYS. EVERY NIGHT IT’S ONE OF THE LIVE MUSIC CLUBS LIKE LINGO, THE ROXBURY, FUNKY REGGAE, SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER, POWER TOOLS, SEVENTH GRADE, EGG SALAD, OR SCARLET LETTER. MONDAY IS ALWAYS THIS BLUES BAR CALLED THE KING KING. IT’S NEVER REALLY CROWDED, MAYBE LIKE TWENTY PEOPLE IN THERE. SOMETIMES BRUCE WILLIS WILL STOP IN AND PLAY HARP WITH THE BAND. I REMEMBER ONCE SEEING MICK JAGGER CRUISE IN AND SIT IN WITH THE BAND.
In one scene from Thrashin’, I’m out with my gang chasing the Ramp Locals when I run dead-on into a street-sweeper. I hit that thing so hard that I actually put a dent in it. But I get paid an extra hundred bucks each time I do a stunt like that, so I do like three to five takes and exit with some extra spending cash for the day.
KAHUNA RAMP IN HOUSTON, TEXAS. CIRCA 1986. © GRANT BRITTAIN.
We earn our money and put in long days on the set—from six at night till six in the morning, or from six in the morning till six at night. On set everything is really controlled, as a movie set needs to be. Off set is the fun time. The director, David Winters, had played one of the Jets in the movie version of West Side Story and this is kind of West Side Story on skateboards, without the plot, singing, or memorable acting. Winters will be sittin’ there with all these girls hangin’ out, giving him neck rubs. Between takes, some skater will sneak in there, trying to swoop down on one of his girls. Winters wants me to do a full-on sex scene in Thrashin’. I’m stoked to do it, but at seventeen I’m a year too young to have sex legally on camera. Bummer, cuz I’ve got more experience than anyone in that department.
None of us will ever forget how much fun we had doing Thrashin’. Duncan and Eddie still have a company called Daggers as a tribute to the movie.
OFF-SCREEN DRAMA
I get over the disappointment of not having sex on screen fast by going to the clubs every night of the week and hooking up all the time. The clubs are like home to us, and we do whatever we want there. My friends are there all the time, and I see fellow Dagger and hot skater Johnny Ray Bartel at least once a week. Johnny’s an amazing bass player who plays the King King all the time. A lot of big-time celebrities drop into the King King, and I know all the locals. If somebody famous shows up that we don’t know, we always give them their space, cuz to approach them would be like, “Oh, let me get a photo with you.” In my world you never ask anyone for an autograph or a photo, no matter who they are. They’re more famous than we are, but that doesn’t matter; to our way of thinking, they wish they were us. They’re playing a stage role; we’re not. We’re doing something they can only pretend to do.
We always have the hottest girls, and it’s obvious that everyone else, including the A-list celebrities, wants to be hangin’ out with them. Even the most famous among them are like every other guy there: on the hunt. Prince is out there with his bodyguards. I don’t know him, but I watch him cuz he’s one of my favorite artists. I scan the crowd and there are all kinds of girls: white girls, Mexican girls, black girls, Asian girls. There are girls with crazy spiked Mohawks, girls with every hair in place, girls with makeup streaked under their eyes so that they look like coyotes or new-wave tigresses. Some are in sheer-looking lingerie; others are dressed in the height of fashion.
Standing out among them is Stacy Ice, a crazy-looking white girl with blond hair, spandex pants, and a super sexed-out look. She’s dancing like a Vegas showgirl out on the floor. I notice her not only because she’s my part-time girlfriend, but also because Prince is checking her out. That gives me a rush: Prince is checkin’ out my girl. When Stacy also notices Prince watching her, I pull her toward me, laugh, and say, “Okay, him or me?” She laughs too and I know she’s chosen me. This isn’t the first time a celebrity has checked her out, and it won’t be the last. Rusler and I have all kinds of girls, but even he’ll tell you that “Stacy was the quintessential club trophy at the time.”
I know that kids look up to me, but I have no concept of being a role model to them. It would never occur to me to pretend I’m someone I’m not in order to make an impression one way or another. A friend of mine, Kele Rosecrans, is one of many victims of my shortsightedness. Kele is a fifteen-year-old skater at the time. He sometimes tours with me. One evening when we’re in Vegas he comes looking for me and finds me in my hotel room with six or seven girls in a hot tub. In my autobiographical movie Rising Son, he says that this and some of my other actions influenced his life so much that he nearly got kicked out of school. Sorry, bro.
Once I have money, I want to make an entrance at the contests, rather than just show up. The entrance always begins in a rented white Lincoln Town Car. This sure beats rolling up in some dented-up beater where the attention comes from a leaky muffler. My entrance was meant to be intimidating, and it worked. Tony Hawk remembers it this way:
ONE OF CHRISTIAN’S NICKNAMES WAS HOLMES, AND I SOMETIMES CALLED IT HURRICANE HOLMES THE WAY HE ROLLED IN. HE’S GOT STYLE, HE’S LOUD, HE’S CONFIDENT, AND HE’S GOT AN ENTOURAGE. I’M THE GUY HE’S SUPPOSED TO BE GUNNING FOR, AND THAT’S TOTALLY INTIMIDATING. LIKE MOST OF US, I WAS STILL THIS AWKWARD KID, BUT I DON’T THINK HE WAS AFRAID OF ANYTHING.
AND IT WASN’T JUST SHOW. HE COULD DELIVER: HIS STYLE OF SKATING WAS PERFECT. YOU NEVER HEARD ANYONE SAY THEY DIDN’T LIKE HIS STYLE, BUT WITH ME THEY’D SAY THAT ALL THE TIME. I HAD MY HATERS, AND I STILL HAD MY DOUBTS THAT WHAT I WAS DOING WAS LEGITIMATE, CUZ SOME CONSIDERED ME A CIRCUS-TRICK SKATER. IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT CHRISTIAN NEVER HAD ANY OF THOSE DOUBTS. I’D OVERHEAR SOMEONE SAY, “OH, HE’S THE BEST; HE’S THE MAN.” HOW DO YOU COMPETE WITH THAT SORT OF REPUTATION?
Most everyone else just drives to the contest, skates their heat, goes to dinner, and goes back to the hotel. No matter where the contest is, my routine looks like this: skate till they turn the lights off and kick me out, meet all the locals and hang out with new and old friends at a backyard barbecue or local restaurant, and then hit the clubs for the night. By the day of the finals, the locals are good friends of ours, and they cheer for us, even though we live in a whole different county, state, or country.
SEQUENCE: STICKER TOSS. HOSOI FAMILY COLLECTION.
FRIENDS BUT RIVALS
No matter how popular I am, the fans are split nearly evenly between Tony Hawk and me. While our different personalities play a big role in this, our styles of skating also contribute. From the beginning, Tony’s skating is based on technical tricks. He’s banging out tricks so fast that we all wonder what new one he’ll pull out next. His style and mine are an obvious contrast to anyone watching. Where he’s trick-oriented, my skating is driven by speed, power, and style. That’s what fuels my fire.
Tony and I are perfect rivals—white knight, black knight. He has blond hair; mine is black. He’s dressed pretty clean-cut for a skater; I’m dressed like Jimi Hendrix. We have one thing in common, though: we both want to win. I try Tony’s tricks once in a while, and to me they feel uncomfortable because of how technical they are. They aren’t very high, fast, or aggressive. You have to get up there, get the board back under your feet, and land it in a hurry. There’s no hang time and no time for style when you’re skating like that. Still, Tony is one of the best skaters of all time, and I understand why he has the reputation he does in our sport.
Most football teams don’t hate each other, but sometimes their fans do. At times Tony’s fans and mine clash with each other. When they erupt, we feed off all that energy in order to skate better. The media makes it seem like Tony and I don’t like each other, but that’s not true. He’s not a huge partier like me, so we don’t hang out often, but we respect each other and often do demos together. Sometimes it’s just the two of us, in the same hotel for days—work the demos, hustle chicks, and play quarters.
By the time Tony and I are in our midteens, there’s this north/south rivalry that has grown up around us. Without really trying, we both become figureheads for one direction or the other. By then I’m riding for Independent Trucks, which is from northern California. Tony’s riding for Independent’s main competition, Tracker Trucks, which is from Southern California. In the skate world it’s basically Tracker versus Independent and Thrasher magazine versus TransWorld Skateboarding. Tony and I get heavily featured in both magazines, but he’s more TransWorld Skateboarding and I’m more Thrasher.
Tony gets the worst of our so-called rivalry once when some Nor Cal guys boo him. Here’s his recollection:
THEY WERE BOOING ME AND THROWING CRAP INTO THE POOL WHILE I WAS SKATING. AS A REACTION TO THEM BOOING ME, THERE WAS THIS CREW THAT WEREN’T NECESSARILY FOR ME, BUT BANDED TOGETHER AGAINST THE UP-NORTH GUYS AND ROOTED FOR ME. THE SKATE MEDIA PLAYED IT UP LIKE CHRISTIAN AND I DIDN’T GET ALONG, BUT I’D DROP IN AT HIS HOUSE AND WE’D SKATE HIS RAMP TOGETHER, AND WE SHARED ROOMS OFTEN ON THE ROAD. WE NEVER HAD ANY PROBLEMS, AND WE ALWAYS HAD GOOD TIMES TOGETHER. IT WASN’T LIKE WE HUNG OUT ALL THE TIME, BUT WE WERE AMONG THE FEW PRO SKATERS IN THE WORLD AND WE WERE FRIENDS.
IN THE END IT WAS TWO DIFFERENT TYPES OF SKATING. THEY WERE “SKATE AND DESTROY”; WE WERE “SKATE AND CREATE.” I DIDN’T LIKE THE BOOING, BUT IT FIRED ME UP AND I THOUGHT, OKAY, I’M GONNA SHUT THESE GUYS UP WITH MY NEXT RUN.
Sometimes it’s me who’s getting booed, of course, depending on the crowd and the sponsorship. I’m like Tony, though: booing does nothing but make me skate harder. It kicks me into overdrive, so I fly higher on my next run. If I win after being booed by the crowd, I hold up the trophy and say into the microphone, “Thanks for booing me; this win’s for you.”
BIG SURF, TEMPE, ARIZONA. DRAINED THE FIRST WAVE PARK IN THE WORLD, FOR STREET AND VERT CONTEST. MID-’80S. © GRANT BRITTAIN.
ICING ON THE CAKE. MID-1980. © GRANT BRITTAIN.
DRIVEN
By the age of seventeen I’ve graduated to adults-only, twenty-one-and-up clubs. I’m living at my mom’s and own my first car, a Jeep CJ5. I could buy nearly any car I want, but I like this one because it has enough room to carry a few friends and the portable jump ramp we use on the Venice boardwalk. I drive everywhere, but I’m extra-cautious not to get pulled over by the cops. As I mentioned, I taught myself to drive at fifteen, but since I dropped out of school at that age, I never did driver’s education and won’t have a license for another year. Still, I’m a good driver. If I weren’t, we’d be dead right now.
After my Jeep I buy a blue convertible ’69 Mustang 302 Boss. That thing sounds killer jamming around L.A. to Venice Beach. By this point I have my license and don’t have to be paranoid about the cops. I love the rush of using my Mustang like a skateboard, jumping lanes and screaming around each turn, blitzing onto the Santa Monica Freeway in rush-hour traffic. Sometimes I have two wheels on the sidewalk and two on the street, racing down the street. My passengers sometimes freak, but I’m always in control.
According to Rusler, my friend Scott Oster sometimes tries to simulate my driving style. That gets him in trouble sometimes. Like one day when we’re all at Damiano’s on Fairfax, sitting down to eat. Suddenly we hear brakes squealing, followed by the crash of metal and breaking glass. We sprint outside to see that Oster has piled up his car again. He was looking to see who was in Damiano’s, then busted a U-turn. In the process, a girl T-boned him and dragged his car halfway down the street. Thank God he’s a skater! He would have been dead otherwise.
I never really crash, but I come too close for comfort once. We’re at a Long Beach tradeshow and I’m driving some of the guys in a rented Turbo Thunderbird to L.A. for Rusler’s birthday party at the El Rey Theater. Suddenly somebody in the backseat distracts me and I turn around, letting the Thunderbird run up onto the center divider. The car carves up the divider, does a full ollie, and—boom!—comes back down so hard it flattens both tires on the passenger side. We’re about to roll when I turn the wheel and pull out.
We manage to get the car to the side of the road, but it’s in no shape to be driven anywhere. Our only form of transportation now is our feet and the single skateboard in the trunk of the car. We take turns skating from one telephone to another and then turn the board over to the next guy. Once we straighten everything out with the Thunderbird’s car-rental company, I take the U-Haul truck we rented for the show and take off for Rusler’s party. I don’t get there till 1:15 A.M., and by then there’s nobody around; the place is completely shut down. The next day I hear there was a big brawl started by one of our friends. Obviously.
TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS
From the time I’m about fifteen years old, I enjoy the business side of things. When my first checks begin to dribble in, they total like $1,500 to $2,000 a month. Not bad for a kid doing nothing but riding a skateboard! Contests don’t pay much, but sponsorships are already proving lucrative. The business sense my mom passed on to me really pays off, and by age seventeen I’m getting pretty savvy. No matter what business I’m involved in, I inform any potential partners what’s up, saying, in effect, “I want 51 percent of the company; otherwise, I’m taking my offer elsewhere.” I do my homework before meetings, question friends in the industry as to what it costs to make a shirt or whatever, and they tell me. Same with skateboards, wheels, trucks, everything. So before we ever sit down to hammer out a deal, I know what everything costs—what it sells for, what production and distribution costs are, and what profit margins are. Because of my age and my partying reputation, most people figure I’ll be easy to manipulate. They have no idea that I’ve done my research and am prepared with whatever questions and answers might be called for. The result is that I always end up with lucrative contracts.
I’m soon ready to start my own company, Hosoi Skateboards. I can’t think of any other pros except Tony Alva, Stacy Peralta, and Bruce Logan who have ever run their own companies. I’m not the first, certainly, but I’m the youngest, starting Hosoi Skateboards when I’m still just seventeen.
My mom helps me file all my paperwork and get everything else in order. I’ve got it all but the cash. I hit up a drug dealer I know and ask him to back me. No problem. He gives me all the start-up money I need. I hand a sack filled with $20,000 in small bills to a skateboard manufacturer to produce my boards. No doubt the man I’m dealing with surmises that the money has a dirty history, but who’s going to turn down that much cash? He builds me two thousand Hammerhead skateboards, and once we pick them up Pops and I screen the artwork onto them ourselves at a house in Topanga Canyon. The Hammerhead is born!
At an age when most kids haven’t yet had their first job at McDonald’s and are struggling through basic economics in high school, I’m the president of a viable company. My dad is the vice president, and my mom’s the treasurer and secretary. The new boards move like hotcakes: by the end of the first year I’m taking down a solid six figures on them. This is beyond what any other skateboarder has ever made before. But I never brag about my newfound wealth, especially not to adults. Instead, I just buy everyone around me dinner. Maybe that’s why nobody ever tells me my skate career won’t last forever. I never hear questions like, “What are you gonna do when you grow up?” They all act like it will never end, because they want to eat, drink, and go to the clubs. Nobody ever offers that necessary advice, saying, “Dude, you’re getting out of control; you should save some money.” It’s cool, though. I don’t want to own anything or have anything own me. That’s why I don’t buy a house. In fact, I’d rather rent three houses and move into them whenever I want than own one house and be stuck with it. How boring. I’m on the move.
CAPITOLA CLASSIC STREET CONTEST. MID-’80S. A SIMILAR SHOT BECAME THE COVER OF THRASHER MAGAZINE. © MORIZEN FOCHE, COURTESY OF THRASHER MAGAZINE.
I’m making around $20,000 a month, combined income from Hosoi Skateboards and sponsorships, and I easily spend three-fourths of that. I don’t really know, though, cuz I don’t keep close track. If I were to make a budget, it would start with something like $2,000 a month for necessities, including weed. Once rent is covered, the rest can go for anything—maybe a motorcycle, a new car, a cool watch, a necklace, and of course clothes. I once spent $1,500 on a jacket, $800 on boots, and $500 on a Jim Morrison–type belt. That was at a place a friend of mine owns, where all the big stars shop. (Forgive my stoner’s memory, but I just can’t recall the name of the place.) The rest goes for things like trips to Hawaii with my team, buying breakfast, lunch, and dinner for whoever’s around, and buying whatever else catches my eye. Lance Mountain remembers my buying white leather jackets for myself and my entire crew when we were in Japan.
The Hammerhead is at the heart of my financial success at this point. Generally speaking, except for the graphics no one can tell one skateboard from another back then. They’re all identical—thirty inches long, ten inches wide, round in the nose and tail, kicked up in the tail. My new board incorporates the swallowtail from my model with Alva, a feature that I like, but what makes the Hammerhead unique is that it’s cut out near the nose so you can grab it and easily hold on while doing aerial maneuvers.
The Hammerhead looks completely different than all the other shapes, but it performs so well that we can’t keep them in stock. In fact, that board’s so popular that a company in Canada begins counterfeiting it and I have to pay $40,000 to get them to cease and desist. The worst part is that the counterfeits are horribly made and fall apart, which sucks for the Hosoi name. I’ve sweated over the construction of our boards, to be sure they’re the highest quality. We use the best Canadian hardwoods, while the counterfeiters use whatever scraps they can find. I actually get kicked out of Pipeline Skatepark when I go there and demand that the owner not carry counterfeit Hosoi boards anymore. Finally, in desperation, we run an ad in Thrasher exposing the ripoffs and warning our customers to buy the “real Hosoi” original Hammerhead, something they can get only from us.
As my popularity soars, I hate not being able to sign every autograph. I’ve always taken extra time out to be sure that my fans get what they came for. There’s an art to interacting well with the public when you’re famous. How you handle things can harm or help you artistically. You have to focus on your work, but you don’t have to be a jerk and disconnect from the world around you. That balance has been on my mind ever since I’ve been in the public eye.
At the clubs it’s different. I’m not Rolling Stones famous, so I’m not a household name. The club regulars all know me, but many others have no idea who I am or what I do. Because of the way I dress, they probably think I’m some up-and-coming rock star or something. I typically wear patent-leather cowboy boots, ripped Levi’s, a vest with no shirt, rings on every finger, and necklaces, while most of my peers rock faded T-shirts, jeans, and torn-up skate shoes. I look like anything but a skater when I’m out for the night. Even during the day I don’t look like any other skater you’ve ever seen. Good thing I’ve got lots of changes of clothes, cuz skateboarding is about to go through one of its own major changes. 