When I was a kid I thought skateboarding was so cool. I wanted to learn how to do it, having no idea that my lack of balance would work against me in such an endeavor. After having discovered my stepfather's porn, the next thing that fascinated me was his skateboard. It was like none of the ones I'd seen at the time. It was very old fashioned and didn't look cool, but I wanted to learn how to ride it.
I made the mistake of expressing this to him. He flew off the handle and called me all kinds of names. "Crazy" and "stupid" were the least of them. He went on this tirade about how people who rode skateboards died at a young age, and their lives were miserable because their bones were broken all the time. I found it hard to believe because he clearly was a skateboarder at some point in his life. Why else would he have this old thing from the 'Sixties?
If that had happened now I would have held up a doll and asked him where the skateboard had touched him. I suspect that he had tried to be a skateboarder when he was a kid, and he failed miserably. Hard and often. I have no idea why he didn't just throw the fucking thing in the garbage.
But then? I bought it all and decided, no, riding skateboards was not worth the broken bones and other injuries that I would probably suffer. It was probably for the best. I think I've talked here before about how I "learned" to roller skate. That . . . did not work out well. I can't imagine how badly I would have fucked up skateboarding.
Yep. This rebel was born to be mild.
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