I knew I wanted a skateboard as soon as I heard rumors about the things in the latter half of the 70's. I lived in a village called Kincardine O' Neil in the North East of Scotland. Population 200, 26 long miles from Aberdeen, no girls, but some really steep hills with hardly any cars on them. Me and my mates were always tearing down them on bikes, but best of all carties (soap-boxes to you English out there.)
My first skateboard was home made from some old clay roller skates, cut to pieces and nailed to a plank. Pretty crap, as it didn't steer. Eventually we began to buy those cheap wooden or plastic decked, open bearing, soft wheeled, kid's skateboards. They broke quick, so I began to make my own bullet shaped flat ply decks, and eventually begged parents to get me some Yo-Yo pros and ACS 500s, just like Stacy Parelta rode. I also got a set of Gullwings and fixed them to quite a cool looking hand carved slalom deck with cut-aways.
Parelta and Alva posters joined those of Debbie Harry, Bob Marley and assorted Aberdeen footballers on my Bedroom Wall. The newspaper that was Skateboard Special kept us in touch with the outside world. We were into downhill, slalom, freestyle, and the occasional bit of wood leant against a fence. I knew it would last forever. It didn't.
By 1980 we moved back into Aberdeen, I lost all my old friends, got into college, girls, pubs, and skating had died. I did sort of give up during my three years at college, but always dragged my deck out during the summer holidays to do some freestyle. By 1984 I emigrated south to Manchester to start working proper, and for some reason really wanted to start skating again.
I got my old homemade deck out, and began to skate about the streets and public parks of Prestwich and Bury. People would pass odd comments like ‘I didn't think people still did that.' Some friend were sympathetic, others curious, some quite rude. F**k them I thought, at least I'm enjoying myself. I clearly remember skating Manchester city centre on Sundays. The whole place was empty back then. Not just no other skaters, but nobody at all. I remember getting quite depressed, genuinely believing I was the only skateboarder left in the whole world, the final, sad torchbearer of a forgotten craze. I still have a painting I did back then. A minimalist portrait of myself on an empty stretch of concrete. I called it ‘The obscurity of the outlaw,' a phrase I had come across in some 70's skateboard book I had lying around. It summed up exactly how I felt.
Then I heard rumors of some guy called Alan from Ince who had this BMX shop and was selling skateboards. I was amazed when I finally found it. Row upon row of massive coffin shaped decks, big Indies trucks, garish graphics. My first copy of Thrasher, rude and in your face. Fanzines from down south written by people like me who had never given up. So I wasn't the only skater left in the world. And it was making a comeback! My prayers had been answered.
I bought myself a Parelta warptail and a G&S fibreflex bowlrider. Eventually I coughed up for a 'modern' Lance Mountain with big Indies' and some Bones, and got into street style. I began to come across other younger skaters around the Bury area, skating the town centre. Some of the best times were at the banks at Chaplefield Primary School in Radcliffe. It gained the reputation as being Manchester's ‘best kept secret,' and somebody did get a photo of the place once in RAD. If Vinny, Hayden and Dickie are out there, you will long remember those sunny Sunday afternoons where we skated all day long. They built fences there eventually which ruined it for me. Some people do still skate it.
By the way, anyone remember the European Championships and King Kong classic at Warrington? Danzig, Gough, Sue Hazel, and even Mr Matt Hoffman, a man who taught me to respect BMX. I was watching, not skating. And all those brilliant Bones Brigade videos! Skating was cool! Cooler than it had ever had been.
Through the nineties I began tentative expeditions to the new skateparks that were opening at Stockport, Bolton and Ancoats. I moved to Radcliffe, got unhappily married, had three kids, and carried on skating when I could. By 1997 I began to press-gang all the local kid skateboarders, in-liners and BMX riders into forming the Radcliffe Association of Dedicated Skaters, and hassled Bury Council about helping us build a skatepark. Five years later we eventually opened the Radcliffe Community Skatepark. It's only small, could be better, but it's free, on my doorstep, and it wouldn't be there had people like myself not got off our backsides and worked hard towards it. I skate there all the time now, pick up the litter, tell kids off for starting fires, etc. I'm quite proud of the place really and am still fund-raising to improve it.
Why still do it? Because it's mine, I love that feeling we call ‘stoked,' and I never grow tired of it. I've been skating for 27 years now, through all it's up's and down's, and I'm proud of that. To be honest, recent years have not been brilliant. Marriage break-ups, custody battles, work related stress, family illness and death. Skating has kept me sane throughout the darkest of times. As for my skating, it's a mixture of seventies freestyle (360's, space walking, wheelies) and eighties street (comply's, boneless ones, ollies and shove-its.) But I'm still learning, and have recently added rock-fakies, and smith-grinds to my skatepark repertoire. Still can't land a f**king kick-flip!
I know I always liked the underground, cult appeal of skateboarding, but it's also nice to see my kids grow up in a world where Tony Hawk is as much a name amongst them as David Beckham. Deep down that's always what I wanted to see.