The Memphis Marauder
by Brian Brannon
Reprinted from the Seal Beach Sun Newspaper, April 5, 2001
Anyone who has ever tried downhill skateboarding has at least one
painful wipe-out story to tell.
This is not one of those, not quite…
It was a cold and misty night in the hills outside of Memphis,
Tennessee. I was in the big burly green machine, a converted school bus
that JFA used to tour the country.
By the time we got to her house, it was three or four o’clock in the
morning. Nobody was on the streets and our crew had retired inside to
hoist a few well-deserved brouhahas.
I, however, had other plans.
“So, I notice you have a lot of hills in this neighborhood,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said.
“I have a downhill board in the bus, would you mind showing me one of
them?” I asked.
“Okay,” she said.
We walked off into the grey and gloomy night. She took me a couple
blocks away from her home and pointed down a steep and narrow street
with a solid line of cars parked on both sides. Large trees lined the
street, and between the grade of the road, the ghostly mist, and the
tops of the trees, you couldn’t see more than fifty feet down the hill.
“Okay, you saw it,” she said. “Let’s go back.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “I want to ride it.”
“No way,” she said. “You’ll die.”
“Nah-ah,” she said.
“Give me a kiss or I’ll do it,” I said.
“Nah-ah,” she said.
“Give me a kiss,” I said.
“No way,” she said.
“I'm going to do it," I said.
"You’ll die,” she said.
"Give me a kiss," I said.
"Nah-ah," she said.
“Alright then,” I said. And I got on my board.
No sooner had I stepped onto my skate than I was going too fast to even
adjust my feet (which were way too close together in a seriously unsafe
downhill stance). I was screaming down that hill. Tears were flying
from
my eyes from the air whipping past my face as I zoomed into the abyss.
This was some serious downhill. I was blazing, barely in control as I
strained to see ahead. Then, down at the bottom, I saw the hill ended
in
a T-intersection with a curb, a sidewalk and a huge plate glass window.
Decision time: to the left was more window, to the right a brick wall.
And the curb that I was rapidly approaching guaranteed I would be
flying
through the air in a most awkward position when I hit either.
Then, way off to the right, I saw a narrow alley covered with dirt,
rocks and broken bottles. It was the only sane choice but it was a long
way off.
Somehow, some way, by leaning hard to the right at a speed of 45-50
miles per hour, I made it into the alley for some rough high velocity
skateboard off-roading until my board came to a stop.
I never did get that kiss, but at least I didn’t die.
We had just finished a gig for a revved-up bunch of Memphis punk
rockers
and were taking the bus to the home of a local girl who was kind enough
to let us sleep on her floor. As we got closer to her house, I noticed
that the bus was laboring up and down some good-sized hills. I looked
at
the downhill board I had brought with me for just such an occasion and
smiled.
“No I won’t,” I said. “But if you give me a kiss, I won’t do it.”