One Senseless Roadtrip…

primogong

• June 21 2005
• 20 comments

“You guys took a roadtrip to Pennsylvania? In December?”

These words, uttered in disbelief, were the remark of the trip from just about everyone we encountered along the way. Yes, for some reason, Morgan Wade, Neil Harrington, Danny Hickerson, Adam McDonald, and I decided to abandon Texas and its balmy 65-degree-and-sunny weather for the frozen Northeast in the dead of winter…and it was awesome.

The trip had no official reason or purpose. Originally, Morgan had just bought a new car and wanted an excuse to drive it somewhere, so he, our friend Dow, and I decided to drive to Philadelphia to hang out and ride for a few days. Unfortunately, Morgan managed to wreck the car within a month of its purchase (with only liability coverage to boot), so it looked as though the trip was off. Morgan and I were bummed, so we decided that we would make the trip happen one way or another. The next plan was for Morgan, Neil, and I to take Morgan’s old, beater Toyota truck up to Philly. The only problem was that the vehicle only has two seats and no camper shell, which meant that all of our stuff, bikes, and one traveler would be exposed to the elements at all times, in Pennsylvania…in December. Then about a week before we were scheduled to depart, the trip somehow snowballed into this huge production with six people, a rental van, and Ryan Fudger flying out to shoot photos for Ride.

Everyone was on a pretty tight budget, so we needed to find the best possible deal on a rental car. I did some research and found a reasonably affordable minivan, with one catch-it wasn’t allowed to leave the state of Texas. Morgan actually had to sign some sort of legal document saying that it would only be driven locally, with stiff financial penalties if we were to get caught outside of the designated area. So, that meant no speeding tickets, no parking tickets, no wrecks, no breakdowns, and no break-ins. In other words, we had to be very, very careful.

Our van was flanked by another car full of Texans: Atom Baker, Andy Martinez, and an obnoxious 16-year-old by the name of Demetrious. While we were glad to have them on the trip, they didn’t exactly make things any easier for us. Trying to find someone to take in six dirty riders is hard enough, but add three more guys who sometimes don’t have the best manners and at other times behaved as though they had been raised by wolves, and it made finding a place to stay rather awkward. From stealing granola bars out of our van (and flatly denying it while holding one of the wrappers) to guilt-tripping Ryan Nyquist for not having a washing machine, these guys could really be a handful at times. It was good, though, as they just made the trip all that more interesting. Much thanks to everyone who took us in and let us make huge messes out of their homes; we really appreciate it.

The trip’s itinerary was somewhat ambitious for a week and a half. The first night, Neil, Danny, and I left Houston for Tyler, Texas, to meet up with Morgan, Adam, and the rental van. The next morning, we all crammed into the van and officially began the journey with a drive to Nashville, TN, to ride street. After Morgan nearly fell into the Cumberland River multiple times while trying to slide a rail, we drove through the night to Greenville, NC, to ride the Jaycee park. While in the car, Danny spent most his time on my Palm Pilot checking MySpace.com. Inspired by the overly-dramatic self-portraits characteristic of Myspace profiles, we snapped a whole bunch of “emo-pics” of our own as a way to pass the time-they came out amazing. From Greenville, we headed to Philadelphia, PA, to pick up Fudger and have a session at the Little Devil warehouse just a few days before the ramps were torn down. Philly was also where the bitter-cold weather first hit us, making riding FDR the next morning a chilly, blurry-eyed event.

Unfortunately, due to the inclement weather, our adventure was destined tbe almost exclusively an indoor skatepark tour. What little outdoor riding we did was rather unpleasant; we were all warm-weather kids, woefully unequipped to handle the Northeast’s harsh winter. On numerous frozen mornings, we approached our van only to find the windshield obscured by a thick layer of ice. We were forced to use whatever tools we had at our immediate disposal as ice scrapers: granola bar boxes, water bottles, skateboards, etc. And most of us had brought no more than a sweatshirt to keep warm. Riding FDR in 28-degree weather with just a sweatshirt on is still fun, just not very comfortable.

After FDR, we rode the ESPN park in Philly before heading out to Woodward for a couple of days. The following morning, while eating breakfast at a diner by Woodward, as a way to cope with the aggravation brought on by young Demetrious, we convinced him to drink a full bottle of maple syrup in exchange for the group paying for his meal. After he successfully consumed about sixteen ounces of the thick, ultra-sweet liquid, he somehow didn’t seem quite as uncomfortable as we were hoping. So, everyone demanded he drink another full glass, but this time a combination of blueberry and strawberry syrup-we finally got the show we had anticipated. Immediately after swallowing the last sip, the kid bolted to the bathroom. A few of us followed, and boy was it an unpleasant sight. While he did not have to pay for his meal, he did fail to consider that his free food had very little nutritional value, considering it was projectile-vomited right back up ten minutes after it went down.

After Woodward, we made our way to Cleveland and hit up Chenga World. We had planned to ride street in Cleveland as well, but several inches of snow on the ground killed that plan, so we drove to Columbus to ride The Flow instead.

Near-total-whiteout conditions made the drive from Cleveland to Columbus quite an interesting journey. Fascinated by the snow, we eventually couldn’t resist the urge to go play in it any longer, so we decided to do just that, despite knowing full well the cold, wet consequences of our actions. Morgan stopped the van on the side of the interstate and we all took off running into the frozen arctic tundra. As we bounded down a huge snow-covered embankment toward the forest, Danny tried to slide tackle Morgan, missed completely, and ended up covered in snow from head to foot. He was not psyched, but it looked pretty fun, so I did a few summersaults down the hill and likewise became caked with white powder. Somewhere along the way, one of us had the bright idea to take sequence shots of each rider getting hit in the face with snowballs. One by one, each of us had to stand in place with hands at our sides, and wait patiently for all of our friends to hurl well-packed globs of frozen water at our faces. It was actually a very effective way of releasing some of the pent-up aggression that tends to build up on the road. After our little jaunt in the snow we returned to the van very wet and very cold, but very happy nonetheless. I’m sure everyone reading this story who actually has to deal with snow on a regular basis is thinking that we are complete and total morons, but for a bunch of Texas/SoCal boys who have basically spent their entire lives in places where there really isn’t any winter to speak of, the freezing cold was a welcome change and a worthwhile experience.

Once we arrived in Columbus, we went straight to The Flow. It was about nine degrees outside and that made the bike unloading/building ordeal somewhat unpleasant. About ten minutes into the session, Morgan went for a bikeflip over the last box in the rhythm section and it didn’t work out so well-he took his feet off, but changed his mind halfway through and never let the bike spin. Morgan has done that plenty of times before, but this time he managed to trip over his own bike upon landing. He ended up doing a full-on scorpion death slide for about ten feet on the linoleum, full facial contact and all-it was ugly. The result was a huge gash on his chin, deep cuts inside his mouth, and one broken molar. Before we could get him to the hospital, though, he was back on his bike doing every sub box trick imaginable with a bandaid on his chin that didn’t even cover the entire wound. After he nearly landed on his face (again) on a toothpick attempt, I finally told him that if he didn’t stop riding I’d have to let the air out of his tires. Fortunately, his back wheel had moved, so his session was finally over. We packed up and headed to the hospital for stitches; meanwhile, temperatures had reached the coldest of the trip at a bone-chilling two degrees.

From Columbus we drove to St. Louis to ride Ramp Riders and Casey Otto’s new park. After the session, we went out to some sort of dance club with a bunch of the St. Louis locals. It was a 21-and-up club, but for some reason everyone got in regardless of their age. I watched in disbelief as Danny handed the bouncer his ID that clearly said he was only 19 years old; the bouncer stared at it for about a minute or so, handed it to the other bouncer who stared it for while, and then let Danny in-it was strange. In retrospect, it probably would have been better if he hadn’t gotten in; for some reason that is still not entirely clear to me, a sketchy homeless gentleman ended up trying to strangle Danny inside the club. The club’s bouncers were alerted of the situation, grabbed the guy, and threw him down a full flight of stairs. Somehow the dude made it back into the club looking for Danny, only to get kicked out once again. When we finally left, the guy was waiting for Danny in the parking lot. It was pretty wild, but we managed to slip Danny past him and get out without any trouble.

We left St. Louis for Joplin, Missouri, to drop off Adam and ride the Bridge, a youth organization (run by Mutiny’s owner Steev Inge) complete with a skatepark. From Joplin, cold and exhausted, we were ready to head home.

By this point, after driving hundreds of miles through the snow, our rental van was completely stricken with road salt-it was a total mess. Considering it wasn’t snowing anywhere near the vehicle’s approved driving area, we clearly needed to do something about the situation or we’d have a lot of explaining to do. After shelling out some money for a good car wash, we actually ended up getting stuck behind a road-salting truck somewhere in Oklahoma and the van was once again coated with a scaly, gray film. Fortunately, by now, the snowstorms had made their way down to Dallas, so the cold-weather evidence had become a non-issue. What was an issue was the ridiculous amount of ice on the Oklahoma roads. We spent most of the night traveling down the highway at 30 miles per hour, passing dozens upon dozens of cars that had spun out into a ditch.

Later on that evening, some tough guy in a big Ford dually with a Harley Davidson sticker on the back window was tailgating us at about three feet, which was not exactly a wise decision with the roads in such terrible condition. When he finally changed lanes and tried to pass us on the right, he gave us the finger precisely as his truck lost control and almost slid into us. We were very confused at this point; why was this guy in such a hurry on the deadly-slick roads, and why was he so furious with us? After he flipped us off a few times, I tried to convince Neil to throw a water bottle at the guy’s truck. Morgan thought that was a terrible idea and he was probably right, but I still felt that some sort of response was in order-not so much as retribution, but more just to see what the fellow would do. So, as we passed the truck, Danny opened our van’s sliding door and I mooned the guy. He looked surprised, flipped us off a few more times, and then sped off. It wasn’t quite the dramatic response I was hoping for, but still pretty entertaining.

Wefor about ten feet on the linoleum, full facial contact and all-it was ugly. The result was a huge gash on his chin, deep cuts inside his mouth, and one broken molar. Before we could get him to the hospital, though, he was back on his bike doing every sub box trick imaginable with a bandaid on his chin that didn’t even cover the entire wound. After he nearly landed on his face (again) on a toothpick attempt, I finally told him that if he didn’t stop riding I’d have to let the air out of his tires. Fortunately, his back wheel had moved, so his session was finally over. We packed up and headed to the hospital for stitches; meanwhile, temperatures had reached the coldest of the trip at a bone-chilling two degrees.

From Columbus we drove to St. Louis to ride Ramp Riders and Casey Otto’s new park. After the session, we went out to some sort of dance club with a bunch of the St. Louis locals. It was a 21-and-up club, but for some reason everyone got in regardless of their age. I watched in disbelief as Danny handed the bouncer his ID that clearly said he was only 19 years old; the bouncer stared at it for about a minute or so, handed it to the other bouncer who stared it for while, and then let Danny in-it was strange. In retrospect, it probably would have been better if he hadn’t gotten in; for some reason that is still not entirely clear to me, a sketchy homeless gentleman ended up trying to strangle Danny inside the club. The club’s bouncers were alerted of the situation, grabbed the guy, and threw him down a full flight of stairs. Somehow the dude made it back into the club looking for Danny, only to get kicked out once again. When we finally left, the guy was waiting for Danny in the parking lot. It was pretty wild, but we managed to slip Danny past him and get out without any trouble.

We left St. Louis for Joplin, Missouri, to drop off Adam and ride the Bridge, a youth organization (run by Mutiny’s owner Steev Inge) complete with a skatepark. From Joplin, cold and exhausted, we were ready to head home.

By this point, after driving hundreds of miles through the snow, our rental van was completely stricken with road salt-it was a total mess. Considering it wasn’t snowing anywhere near the vehicle’s approved driving area, we clearly needed to do something about the situation or we’d have a lot of explaining to do. After shelling out some money for a good car wash, we actually ended up getting stuck behind a road-salting truck somewhere in Oklahoma and the van was once again coated with a scaly, gray film. Fortunately, by now, the snowstorms had made their way down to Dallas, so the cold-weather evidence had become a non-issue. What was an issue was the ridiculous amount of ice on the Oklahoma roads. We spent most of the night traveling down the highway at 30 miles per hour, passing dozens upon dozens of cars that had spun out into a ditch.

Later on that evening, some tough guy in a big Ford dually with a Harley Davidson sticker on the back window was tailgating us at about three feet, which was not exactly a wise decision with the roads in such terrible condition. When he finally changed lanes and tried to pass us on the right, he gave us the finger precisely as his truck lost control and almost slid into us. We were very confused at this point; why was this guy in such a hurry on the deadly-slick roads, and why was he so furious with us? After he flipped us off a few times, I tried to convince Neil to throw a water bottle at the guy’s truck. Morgan thought that was a terrible idea and he was probably right, but I still felt that some sort of response was in order-not so much as retribution, but more just to see what the fellow would do. So, as we passed the truck, Danny opened our van’s sliding door and I mooned the guy. He looked surprised, flipped us off a few more times, and then sped off. It wasn’t quite the dramatic response I was hoping for, but still pretty entertaining.

We had a few more snowball fights here and there at various rest stops, and I accidentally threw a giant chunk of ice at Danny, thinking it was snow-whoops. Danny’s wrist was bleeding, and I felt really bad. We got to Dallas late that night and returned the rental car with no hassles. From there it was back to Tyler to drop off Morgan, and then home to Houston for the rest of us.

We had a hell of a time on our journey. Sure, it was cold, the van was crowded, and we were uncomfortable, but none of that really mattered. What did matter was that we had the opportunity to be trapped inside a van with our buddies, travel the country, experience new things, and meet new people. Like I said before, it was awesome.P>We had a few more snowball fights here and there at various rest stops, and I accidentally threw a giant chunk of ice at Danny, thinking it was snow-whoops. Danny’s wrist was bleeding, and I felt really bad. We got to Dallas late that night and returned the rental car with no hassles. From there it was back to Tyler to drop off Morgan, and then home to Houston for the rest of us.

We had a hell of a time on our journey. Sure, it was cold, the van was crowded, and we were uncomfortable, but none of that really mattered. What did matter was that we had the opportunity to be trapped inside a van with our buddies, travel the country, experience new things, and meet new people. Like I said before, it was awesome.