dropping in

Dropping in.

If you ride a skateboard you know what it is. In case you don't, dropping in is how a skateboard rider enters a ramp or pool from a horizontal surface.

The best way to think of it is like an empty swimming pool. Imagine you are standing on the side of the pool, on the flat surface. You want to skate down the side of the pool and up the other side.

You could just climb into the pool and start at the bottom, but that would be too hard. So you drop in. You just position your board with the rear wheels over the edge and the front wheels in the air. Your board, assuming it has a bit of an angle in the tail, will be pointing up at about a 45 degree angle. Then you just hold the board in place with you back foot, put your front foot on the board which is still pointing upwards. Then all you do is bend the knees, lean forward and stamp down with your front foot. The last bit is by far the hardest.

Dropping in, when it doesn't work, hurts. A lot. Like a everything, it gets easier with practice.

The hardest part is dealing with your own mind. Your mind, quite sensibly, will probably tell you that jumping head first off a concrete wall is not a good idea. It will probably urge you to go feet first.

Going feet first is not a good idea. What happens is your feet are ripped from under you and you either slam your head against the wall or end up falling hard on you back, or both. I've done both lots of times.

Right now I can drop in. Just. And only on a smallish ramp of about 5 foot. I first tried it after skating for about four days and that was where I learned that falling 3 feet and landing on my back really hurts.

Soon I will try and drop in to a proper 'bowl'. The idea terrifies me, which is the best part.

skateparks

The first time I remember going to a skatepark was about eight weeks ago. It was on a Sunday at about 8 o'clock in the morning.

This particular skatepark (Maroubra in Sydney if anyone wants to know) was empty except for a couple of kids and their dad.

The park itself consisted of a great deal of concrete arranged into various slopes and shapes.
There was also something that resembled a swimming pool with no water.

As I walked around the park I tried to imagine how anyone could ride such steep slopes on a skateboard.

I watched the kids for a while. They were having a lot of fun. Their father was not. He was put out that the boy kid was not going down the bigger slopes. He then did something that I have seen many times since. He encouraged, forcefully, his son to do something incredibly stupid and dangerous and guaranteed to end in injury. In this case he told his son to go down one of the larger, steeper slopes whilst sitting on the skateboard to 'get the feel of going fast'. Even I knew this was a bad idea.

He got the feel of going fast, alright. Then he got the feel of skin scraped on concrete. Then he got the feel of having some idiot (his father) yelling at him while he rolled around in a bloody mess.

You get that.

Soon after that a man turned up who could really skate. He was not young, but he was really good. At least I thought so. He glided over the concrete waves with speed and grace. That, I thought, is what I would like to do.

I was a bit shy of having a go myself. Mainly because I felt so hopelessly inept at even standing on a skateboard, let alone riding it. I decided that I needed to find an empty skatepark to learn on.

The park in the photo is of a skatepark (Dulwich Hill) that is almost always empty. I go there a lot, at least I used to. The reason it is empty is because right next to it is a new skatepark where everyone who can skate goes. The old one is rough. The slopes are at some peculiar angles. Still, I was left alone there to learn.

I realised pretty early on that there is just no point worrying about how you look to other people. A lot of good skaters don't wear any protective gear. At first I felt a little self conscious about wearing a full set of pads and a helmet, but pretty soon I couldn't care less.

I have found most people to be pretty friendly. Nothing nasty has happened, unless you count a bunch of drunk boys lobbing homemade bombs into the skatepark nasty. No one has been rude to me even though I can't really skate. Generally I am either ignored or people are friendly.

Lately I met a bunch of guys my own age who all meet a particular skatepark on a Sunday morning. They are really friendly and most of them can skate really well. They give me lots of encouragement, even though I am pretty hopeless.

I love skateparks!

beginnings

Where does an idea to do something stupid come from?

When does an idle thought or a daydream transform into a real event?

I suppose I must have imagined myself gliding across the road on a skateboard. I was probably graceful and fluid in my movements like a real skater. I doubt if I was doing 'tricks' though.

Whatever the details, I don't think I imagined twisted ankles, wrenched knees that randomly click and swollen hips that are a dark shade of purple. My imagining were accordingly inaccurate, or at least incomplete.

I bought a skateboard, my first, about two months ago at the end of August 2009. It cost me fifteen Australian dollars.

That afternoon I took it to a small ramp that I have since learned is called a 'mini-ramp' - a completely innaccurate description. For anyone interested, it is in Annandale at Jubillee Park. The ramp has two curved sections on each side and a flat section in the middle. The sides are concave, a bit like a wave just before it breaks.

I didn't try and drop in that day. In fact, I could hardly stand up on the board without falling over. I had a little push around until some real skaters came along. Then I hid. Still, I had started, and, stangely, I was ecstatic.