Ditches

Since moving out East I've come to understand skateboarding a lot differently. One thing I have definitely come to realize is how incredibly good we had it out West. Although we bitched and moaned (as kids will do) about the fact that we didn't have a "skate park" growing up, we were surrounded by things to skate. In retrospect, almost every Western city or town is a veritable skate park in and of itself. I mean, we had driveways, sidewalks, streets, loading docks and banks, ditches, hills, patios, porches, campuses, tennis courts, plazas and pools. Everywhere. Moreover, all this terrain was connected by concrete. We could, and did, literally skate everywhere we went. In fact, a lot of us hated cars and never thought about driving to a "spot" to skate. The "spot" was anywhere we'd happen to be at the time. The only question was where you'd wind up.

Don Roser Ditch, 1987

Add to that the fact that the weather permitted 360 skating days a year and you have an ingrained skate culture. Although we liked to think of ourselves as dedicated (and I think we were to the extent that was necessary), the fact was we didn't have to do all that much to skate. 

In fact, built-to-skate structures, particularly ramps, were kinda few and far between. Why bother? Let's hit the pool. Why bother today, even? It's supposed to be nice for the next six months... let's get fucked up. Skateboarding out West is about whatever mood you're in. Skate whatever you feel like skating because there's always something else to skate if you change your mind. You can be mellow, go hard, both or neither. No one cares. Not to mention that you can always skate tomorrow. 

Back East, outside the major cities there's nothing to skate. No sidewalks or pools. Few (if at all) of anything else. Skaters out here had to build everything they ride. Moreover, the weather sucks dick at least six months a year. In a nutshell, skaters out here are dedicated like a mother fucker. Just to learn how to skate they probably had to jump in on a vert session and break their arm. Skaters go hard out here every time they skate because they may not get another chance that month. In fact, you miss a session and you may not hear from them again. They're always eyeing you suspiciously, as if to say "you're gonna quit, aren't you?" ("but, I've been skating for 30 years!"). It took me a long time to get used to the fact that it's just harder to make it happen out here. You have to respect that people get it done under the prevailing circumstances East of the Mississippi... don't even get me started on the humidity.

While I've come to appreciate East coast skate culture immensely, there are still things about the West for which I often pine. The ditch session in particular strikes my nostalgic chord heavily. The imagery associated with a typical Western ditch leaves me longing for mountainous vistas lined with foreboding thunderclouds, Budweiser in hand and a crew of like-minded homies aimlessly traversing banked transitions towards a seemingly endless sunset (I'd bring up pools but I'd cry).

We literally grew up in drainage ditches. We learned how to skate there, how to smoke weed there, how to drain a twelver and ditch the cops there. We learned to spray paint there and scared the hell out of the younger skaters there. We got in arguments and brawls there, hung out there--not just because there wasn't any place else to go, we were skateboarders. Strangely, though, we dreamed of skating parks there, perhaps not realizing just how good we had it. We never built a single ditch, though we resurrected a few after the neighbors tried to ruin them. There was never anyone around with any chance of telling us what to do. Sometimes we got chased out by a crew of jocks or shit kickers. Every once in a while we even threw a contest at one, though fire hydrants usually upended our best laid plans.

The Banks, 1986

At some point we ditched those ditches. In fact, though I've visited often over the years, I can't remember the last time me and any of the homies I grew up skating with made it a point to go skate one. They're just too... I don't know what it is; they just don't seem worth the trouble any more. Look at them. Overgrown by weeds, cracks in the surface, graffiti about everything but skating. 

Sadly, it seems like we've all got a similar story. We've moved on, leaving behind whatever we think we've outgrown, too proud to return home. There are perhaps easier and nicer things to skate now, as evidenced by the fact that everyone and their damned dog is skating those places now, too. In retrospect, maybe back in those ditches' hey days we were a little more dedicated than I thought we were. At least we skated those ditches, which is more than a lot of people did: just note the proportion of spectators to skaters in the above photo. More importantly, one way or another, most of us are still skating now, too, carrying with us perhaps the very same soil we collected in those ditches twenty-five years ago. Or maybe we're still sitting around wishing for something better to come along.