Plaid Again?

Growing up I always wanted to be a “vert skater”. Being under the driving age and living in southern Maryland at time, finding or funding a vert ramp was out of the question. At least until I was about 17 and a friend of mine was moving and gave me his old ramp. It ended up being a LOT of wood… so we came up with this…

It was in my parents backyard. It wasn’t the best, but it was what we had. To this day it’s the smallest vert ramp I’ve ever skated, clocking in at 10 feet tall (1 foot of vert), and only 16 feet wide. Regretfully I didn’t really progress on it at all due to the lack of locals willing to skate it with me and not ever wanting to pad-up and skate solo. It’s pretty dam hard to stay motivated and keep the session going when your skating vert alone. Infect, its kinda sad.

With my discovery of this ramp in east bay, and other locals motivated to skate it, I’m getting super hyped on vert skating again. Me and Toad claimed, “540s before we die”. Well Toad, we’re not getting any younger dude…

This could be our last chance. 540s dude… 540s.

So I updated my iphone and it deleted every contact in my phone. all of them. everyone I know or do business with.. gone. Do you remember what life was like before cell phones? I hardly can. And I hate that.

If you know my phone number, or want to know my phone number, please email me at:
gordon@cruzskateshop.com
Your name, phone, email, and favorite color.

Thanks dudes.
Hope to hear from you soon,
-Gordo

Skinner man rules all.

WTF?

This pretty much says it all.

Im not sure whose idea it was, but we rode to the Russian River today.

But most importantly, mr. Nagahara was in attendence! I haven’t seen the dude in awhile and I was hyped to get to roll with him. We made it to the river, had a beer, then he napped, then… Out of nowhere he stands up and says he’s gotta get back on the road. I guess he was headed to Portland? I asked “when are you comin back?” and he quickly responded, “donno.”

It’s gotta be hard being that rad.

From the eye of Lee Bender, this was the meeting spot for the losers leaving the bay in route to Grass Valley.

This was the man with the plan, and the route. Shrewgs planned the ride from Fell Street all the way to Grass Valley with gas stops and food all pre-planned out.

Piss stop..

After hours of riding in the heat we finally made it to the roll in around 4pm… and it was hot as hell…

After being at the Roll In for even just a few minutes people already started talking about swimming. I knew about this river spot off of 49 and it was a hit. I’m not taking credit for it… I just knew the spot everyone was talking about…

I come from down in the valley
where mister when you’re young
They bring you up to do like your daddy done
Me and Mary we met in high school
when she was just seventeen
We’d ride out of this valley down to where the fields were green

We’d go down to the river
And into the river we’d dive
Oh down to the river we’d ride …

I can’t swim. It’s just something that was overlooked in my youth and I never worked out in my old age. I can float and doggy paddle but both are sad and pathetic to watch…

Then after hours of river time we made it to camp. and Johnny some how came up on a 3 foot piece of Jerky?

We ended up camping in this chicks yard that was the planned after party for the Roll In. It worked out pretty sweet. tons of room and the people that wanted to party could, and the rest of us old folk that wanted to pass out could… in peace.

The next day I awake to Bender just saying… “Swimmin…. swimmin…” sooo, we went back to the river to swim more! It was still hot as death so no one was against the idea. After the river Me Sandy and Mike all rolled to Marysville to meet up with Lisa and Jeff! We went out to dinner at The Silver Dollar Diner. It was a perfect cap to a great weekend.

Go HERE to see way better photos of the weekend.

HERE TOO! Rick fuckin rules….

My last day in Colorado we awoke in wonder of what we were gonna get into. After laying in the street for at least 20 minutes we had formed a plan…

How about the Coors Brewery tour!

After only about a 45 minute wait, we were in.

The audio tour is done on these Ferris bueller style mobile phone looking things. You can play, skip or pause at any point in the tour. Pretty rad because if what the dude was saying started to bore your face off, you could just hit the old “fuck-this-skip-it” button in hopes of something rad.

Beer!

The Quality control room.

On Tap! To-Day?

Now finally we got to sample some tasty brew! The sample room is pretty much just a cafeteria at the end of the tour. You get to choose 2 out of 8 or 10 different beers. Yeah.. like I did the tour to sample a Coors Light? Come on now.

Instead we sampled this “not on the market yet” brew called Batch 19 and it ruled. Apparently it’s a prohibition style lager (whatever that is) and tasty.

Bromance and beer come together right here on this little bench.

Priceless.

Francis here. It’s with a heavy heart that I announce that the Icebox is dead to me. I’m selling her to the highest bidder. She’s on craigslist for $420. Gotta be high in the first place to want to take on these electrical issues.

the beginning of the end - Autumn 2009

who's drinking the Twisted Tea?!

Lee Bender and Rick Eusey are both epic dudes. I met both of them back in 2001 and we’ve stayed in touch since. If you know them… you’ll know why. They both rule. They cut each others arms off as they ride. figure that one out. They were just interviewed by the New York Times about them being skateboarders that got into motorcycles. I got home from work today and just as I walked in the door my roommate said “Rick and Lee where in the Times!”. I picked up a paper and dove straight into it. Its the best when your friends get recognition for just being rad people. Even better when they have a Cruz shirt on. So sick.

After I read the article I went to Max’s blog and he posted something about the article too. Then he wrote some amazing shit about what skateboarding and choppers mean to him. Reading what he wrote made me really think about what skateboarding means to me…

Me and Goodman on the wedgie machine. When youre drinkin at Fuzz’s place, sometimes shit just starts getting weird.

At the crack of dawn on day three of the trip I awoke to the sounds of what seemed like buzzards or vulchers walking around my tent. A little dazed, as I normally am in the morning, I couldn’t have told you where I even was. I remembered I was still in Nevada tho. The sun was peaking over the mountains, my camp site was repacked onto the shadow and I was back on the road by 6:30am.

It turns out I was just south of Ely on Rt. 93/Rt. 50. About an hour from Great Basin National Park. From here I started the cold climb into the Humboldt National Forest and over the mountains. As I was riding I noticed a sign that said elevation 7100 feet. I looked down and I was doing 70mph, at 7am in the morning. Then that’s when I realized the date was 7-7. You think of all sorts of stuff when you riding for hours.

My first stop of the day was in Baker, NV.

Baker is a little town just off Rt. 50 a few miles before you cross into Utah. It is also the entrance to Great Basin National Park. I stopped for gas and was floored by the lack of station that came with this gas stop. It was just two pumps and a few vending machines. Thats it. The feeling of being in the middle of nowhereland set in even heavier.

Then I entered the zone of polygamist Mormons. Scared. This first stretch of road is just as it looks, flat and barren. I couldn’t help it, I literally said out loud, “where to hell am I right now?”

After about three hours of riding I made it to the Rancher Motel & Cafe in Delta, UT. An old man at the counter was bitching about cigarettes.

“Outragous! $6.66 a pack! I remember when they were .25 cents a pack!”

Not to judge, but he also didn’t have any teeth. I was surprised the man didn’t blame the devil for the cost of his smokes. Then I looked to my right and the booth next to me was all cops. They kept looking at me like I was a fugitive they’d been on the hunt for. I finished my two egg special and got the hell out of there. Breakfast was a success, but I was itching to get back on the road.

After I left Delta, rolled through Salina and found my way to I-70 east toward Moab, this is where shit got a little hairball. The sky turned black on me, then downpoured.

I made it through the first shit storm and punched in to stay ahead of the rain. I thougth of Scott H Biram and put that hammer down in that hammer lane trucker style.

I cranked it to 80 and flew down I-70 doing everything to say ahead of the rain. But nature still calls. This was a piss stop in central Utah.

I felt like I was far enough ahead of the storm that I pulled over when I saw there was a senic overlook. But… I’ve been here before? I cant remember on what trip but I know I’ve been to this highway exit before…

Utah looks like Mars on Earth.

Then it hit me again. A rain drop to the face I mean. I was being followed. The rain had made it back up to me as well as the sky was getting darker to the north and to the south. Mother nature was closing in on me…

After the over look I jumped onto the road and did some quick math. If I stayed on the road and kept my speed around 70ish, I would make it to Boulder before midnight. OR… I could stop in Moab (as originally intended) and camp in the rain with possible thunder storms. I opted for the road. I made the decision and gunned it. Scott Biram was still playing in my head. No photos of Moab because when I made it there I was doing well over 80 to try to get infront of a storm that was right on my ass. I made it into Colorado (also no photo), passed Grand Junction and soured into the mountains. It seemed like it was clear sailing with friendly sky ahead and black clouds behind me. I was wrong…

I made it to a small town in the mountains called New Castle and it hit me. It poured. I waited it out and got back on the soaking wet highway still thinking I would make it to Boulder just after dark. The thing I didnt bring into consideration was altitude. I made it to Vail (around 10,000 feet above sea level) at about 930pm. I was pitch black out and I was wet and freezing. It sucked. I pulled over for coffee and half considered asking the gas station if I could crash there for the night. Then I found out I was only 1 hour from Boulder and a warm couch to crash on that also came with a hot shower… “fuck it, I can make it.”

After 1323 miles in 2.5 days, I made it to Goodman’s place around 11pm Mountain time. I had been riding his bike for the last 17 hours that day. I could no longer feel my ass or half of my legs. Regardless, I was so hyped to be there. This here is Roxie sitting on what would be my bed for the next 4 days.

Scott Rattler sent me a text that just said:
“Gordon VS the Road. Gordon One. The road Zero.”
Thanks dude. That was amazing…

To be continued…

East coast update! Scott sent me a text message that just said “I’m drinking you”. Creepy and flattering all at the same time. Keep up the good work dude…

Just before July 4th I was presented with a mission. Old Goodman needed his machine (a 2008 Shadow) moved from San Francisco to Boulder, Colorado and asked if I was interested. I promptly responded that “I’m your man”. A week later I packed the bike up and hit the road east toward Colorado.

My path was from SF to Sacto, then to take Rt. 50 east from Sac to South Lake Tahoe. This was my first sight of the Lake from the South…

After stopping for some cheap tacos in South Lake I headed north on Rt. 89 to Truckee, CA where I had a couch to crash on lined up.

On the way I passed by Emerald Bay and had to pull over to take it all in…

I made it to Truckee to crash with Big Cam & Tea-Nya at their place. Thanks for the food, beers and hospitality. You two freakin rule.

– Day 2 –

On the second day I was early to rise and headed east to Reno on interstate 80 to connect with Rt. 50, known as the Loneliest Road in America.

My first stop was in Fallon, NV to have breakfast. I found a little diner called the Maine Street Cafe. After a classic two egg meal I was back on the road.

As I passed through the little downtown of Fallen I thought about what it would be like to live there…

Then Found The Double Eagle?!?!?! I almost stayed the night just to find out how much it’s like the Double Eagle we know and love in Waldorf, MD… but decided to keep moving. I had a long ride ahead of me.

The first section of Rt. 50, in Southern Nevada, just east of Fallon is so crazy. There. Is. Nothing there… You start to have the feeling inside that you are completely alone. The passing motorist are the only sign of life for hours in all directions…

After hours of riding you come to Austin, NV. Austin is the first sign of life you come across. It’s a very small town in central southern Nevada that from what I can tell might not even make it onto most maps. I stopped for gas and water, a small cookie.. then was back to the road…

Eureka, NV is the second sign of life along the lonely passage. My thoughts when looking at the map was that it was more of a town… but I was quite wrong. Austin was looking like a major city compared to Eureka. It was a booming town 100 years ago, but is now nothing more then a small truck stop along a hardly traveled lonely road…

Eureka’s history.

Ely, NV was my riding goal and I made it by around 4pm. Perfect timing because my ass was completely numb and I was starving to say the least.

I was so bummed this place wasn’t open…

Rolled up to this place asking to meet “The G”…

When went car shopping for a minute…

But then it was time to find a place to sleep. My first attempt at camping was at the Cave Lake Campground just south of Ely. As I pulled up to the “Drop your money here” spot there was a bunch of “Beware of Rattle Snakes” signs and a completely empty camp… after a gut feeling and a quick decision I decided to find somewhere else for the night.

I finally ended up at the local KOA campsite for the night. It was my first KOA experience and for what I was looking for it was perfect. Sure I found myself being tortured by 10 year old kids yelling “Hey can you pop a wheelie on that thing!!” and “OH HE’S GOT A SKATEBOARD!!”. but I was able to ride to the other side of camp and avoid the kids. They have hot showers, clean bathrooms and a convenient store on camp! After dusting three $1.50 (12 oz) beers I crawled into my REI home for the night.

Now one unavoidable fact about bikes is you can’t pack much on um. I stopped in town to pick up food for the campsite and was able to fit a few bananas, an apple and some animal crackers into my bag. Fine dining to say the least. Day 2 was over. I laid in my tent and plotted out my route for the following day. I was going to continue on Rt. 50 into Utah and then to Moab for my second night of camping.

To Be continued…

Magnethead tipped me off about this one.

Lazer’s machine is the first bike I ever rode on the back of a few years ago. I had bought Jam’s bike from him and Lazer was helping me get it running and we had to ride around with him to get parts for the bike.

O’l Lazer is a bad ass and so is his bike….

And most recently he made two seats out of old skateboards and a staple gun. So sick…