My friend built this DIY. With his own hands. Alone. It is located, in what is most likely a superfund site, on the outskirts of Boston’s city limits. The area contains dead vegetation, bare trees, rusted train tracks long fallen to disuse, piles of disintegrating bricks, rotting railroad ties, and scrap heaps of broken industrial machinery from a large factory that once stood here. They entire area smells of old decay, a musty dust, and acute potentiality.
The DIY he built site upon blacktop asphalt, that was tamped down many, many years ago. It has become deeply pitted, and razor sharp with age and weather. I fell skating here once. My shirt ripped in four places. The surface will shred flesh. Only ultra soft wheels will unlock these hidden possibilities, harder ones will cripple.
Less than two miles from this spot is a large popular, metropolitan million dollar skate park. Smooth surfaces. Perfect ledges. Popular cool kids. A nice bowl. Lighted at night. That park also comes without any chance of trespassing citations, exposure to questionable chemicals, or any real sense of grit, integrity, or spirit.
The friend who built this DIY recently had his hip replaced. He started skating again a few months ago, and it’s rough going right now. He is struggling with very basic things, but he is persistent. He keeps pushing. With time it will come back. Or it won’t. Either way, he will still be rolling. And always will be.
Large, polished, expensive diamonds always draw fawning masses. Google. Facebook. TikTok. Youthful athletic talent. Giant malls. Giant skateparks. Coal, on the other hand…that’s when shit gets real.
