Skate Safari With The Knuckle Draggers

Chilly, but we weren't chilled.  The Sun was present in the clear skies, but offered little warmth to our dismay.  Albert, the heart beat, helmed the Hesh Ship AKA "The Jungle Van" through the suburban back roads us filthy mongrels were raised on.  The Dodger held shotgun, supplying laughter and grin.  I took the VIP seat in the back, might as well have been the mayor.  I was sipping some type of zombie lemonade elixir; created by physicians or witch doctors to increase muscle recovery, as we went to pick up Moores the boy wonder.

What was he doing in there?  After what seemed like hours, Moores crept out of his house high up on a hill with a big wave gun of a Sector 9, ready to pick a fight and discuss urethanes.  Once he settled in the seat next to mine we set sail for a loading dock with a nice bank behind a gymnasium.  

We arrived on the scene and met with Mat and Jared, two best friends from a different yet similar neck of the woods.  We were all lifted and ready to take on a challenge... once we were fully stretched of course.

Jared plotting his operation.

Mat and Moores look on.  "Weird stuff."

Trial & error = the running man.

Albert ripping the stick.

In glory.

Rapscallions.

Get hectic.

Sign of the time.

Jared the untamed.

Stoked!

My arsenal: The Creature Double Feature.

A young Mayhem.

After a long day of sidewalk surfing, we made haste to Doc Mayhem's house for a night of rambunction and deeds of dastard.  A Trojan mixer from the lion of Judah himself had us hopping two-tone and proper.  The night was young and impressionable.  We sensed it's fear and took full advantage.  Fine young hammerheads hepped on blood.

Having fun with the spirit of it,

BAM