Outside The Lines

Photos: Ryan Young

Words: Travis Schirmer

Exhausted from over 40 days of zigzagging across the country seeking out shelter and skateboard spots, the crew decided to bypass Colorado and drive straight back to California. The territorial disputes over seats with access to a window for leaning on grew in viciousness and regularity, as all-night driving sessions became the norm. Every few hours a passenger would wake up and mumble, “Where are we?” It was unclear which state we were in at any given time; that we were still far from the West Coast was certain due to the surreal names of gas stations we passed (Kum & Go, Giant Eagle, Flying J, etc.) We took turns sleeping on a strip of floor between the van’s first bench and front seats that had been previously reserved for the soles of our shoes and oily particles of vending machine food.  At rest stops, some of us worked through our delusional weariness by walking in socks through rainy parking lots towards the nearest fast food restaurant, while others chain-smoked in a haze propped against the van.

Miraculously, we materialized in Los Angeles to let off our first crew member. Many half-conscious goodbyes were uttered in the weak morning sun until the trip was concretely over—its reality carried on in the form of electronic imagery and subjective interpretations based on the meaning it held for each person who went along for the ride.

Photos: Ryan Young

Words: Travis Schirmer

At the bottom of a gravel road somewhere in the grassy city of Rutland, Ohio the van pulled up to a sign enclosed by pool coping with “Skatopia” written on it. The entrance lead to an 80-acre piece of land founded on ideas concerning skateboarding and freedom by a man named Brewce Martin. We drove by a pink school bus with broken windows, a house where the walls seemed to be made of nothing other than beer boxes, a three-story barn with a roof supported by a full-pipe, and a cement skatepark built on a hill at the highest point of elevation. A few minutes after staring at our surroundings, a car being chased by a pack of barking dogs came charging up the road. Brewce Martin emerged, introduced himself, and then jumped onto his skateboard to show us the lines of the park he built himself. At night, the lights in the barn came on and we watched Brewce, Joel and Ratface have a session in the vertigo-inducing 13-foot tall wooden bowl. Noteworthy events of the evening included a skateboard dropping from the top of the full pipe onto Ryan’s face, games of pool being played for low sums of money and two “bus tours” with Brewce behind the wheel and all of us trying to find a spot to sit on the floor where there was no broken glass as we went off road. We threw our sleeping bags into the pool and slid down to the bottom, but the sound of a revving chainsaw from outside kept everyone awake.

Along with multiple houses, barns and cabins on the property, Brewce constructed a skateboard museum. He gave us a tour, showing us his collection of hundreds of different boards from the earliest era through the present. There was a board with a pair of trucks that still had a “patent pending” label attached to them, along with clay wheels. Visitors are welcome to pick up any of the boards that hang from every inch of ceiling and wall space to stand on them or spin their functioning bearings. We finished our time at Skatopia by shooting handguns, shot guns and rifles at an old computer in front of the museum.

Photos: Ryan Young

Words: Travis Schirmer

For two nights we slept on the hardwood floor of a barren living room among our dirty clothes, electronics and other valuable items in an area of Brooklyn populated by art students and unclassifiable weirdos.  During the day we skated as a mob, taking priority over a few timid drivers but mostly dispersing at intersections to make space for barreling taxis.  Ryan’s friend Daniel, a recent New York transplant from California and videographer, guided us through transfers and stairways of the subways in order to skate iconic spots such as downtown’s courthouse and adjacent kinked hubbas.  Daniel committed his mind to a difficult trick, sacrificing the joints of his body in the process.  We stayed an extra day for an unscheduled memorial at Ground Zero on the night of September 10^th, and left the next day after one more rally down the street with a local named Jackson.

Our next stop was Albany, where we enjoyed a hill bomb tour of the streets dubbed “the time warp” by our host Ted, fresh out of the van after a long drive.  Trevor, co-owner of Seasons Skateshop, connected us to a dedicated crew of local skateboard addicts who have lived together in neighboring flats for nearly a decade.  The worst injury of the trip was sustained on our last night in New York.  Ted led us down a particularly steep hill with a stoplight for a finish line.  A yellow light blinked red as Ted made it past the front bumper of a speeding car.  His upper arm and face hit the front passenger side window of a passing car in the next lane with enough force to blow out the glass.  In the hospital Ted waited to have glass removed from his palm when a cop entered the room to issue him a ticket for failing to yield to traffic.  Ted was lucky to walk away from the accident with minor injuries; and we were glad to have met a skater with fearless commitment. 

Jesse Lack and his family spoiled us with beds, barbeques and inquisitive conversations.  We skated a few of Boston’s visually appealing spots between sporadic downpours that dried up from the brick sidewalks in less than an hour.  Orchard Skateshop co-owner Broderick gave us a passionate interview and we skated for a full day afterwards.            

Photos: Ryan Young

Words: Travis Schirmer

One more night was spent on a beach in North Carolina after a scouting mission for rooftop urban camping proved unsuccessful.  The empty, peaceful spot where we rolled out our sleeping bags late at night became a lane for joggers, walking families and concerned beach patrol officers at daybreak.  We met up with Levi (Youtube username eliteskater08) and his friends, a posse of a dozen skaters and some of their girlfriends, in Lexington, North Carolina.  They showed us their spots until the sun set and we continued on to Chapel Hill where we celebrated Ratface’s 21st birthday at our friend James’ house.  James kindly provided us with beer, good conversation and shelter for three days.  During that time Levi guided us to more of his spots and we ended our time together by riding our skateboards down a steep grass hill as a group of twenty.  Exodus skateshop helped us greatly, allowing us to shoot interviews in their well-stocked shop after hours.  We all appreciated the help from Levi, Exodus and James as our journey continued.   

Photos: Ryan Young

Words: Travis Schirmer

Florida’s New Smyrna Beach was roofed in by an ashy sky that fractured with root-like shapes of blue lightening as our van pulled in to the Shluzas’ driveway.  The heat waited patiently behind the clouds, allowing us to skate chunky brick banks and well-constructed skateparks by 4 p.m. on the heels of hurricane Irene.  We stared at thrashing palms from behind glass panes in the elegant home of Joel’s in-laws for most of a day.  The following afternoon Florida powerhouses Joel Meinholz and Ed Selego gave us an interview at M.I.A. skateshop before leading us to a recognizable concaved structure in front of an unused building for a fun session.  By the time we made it to South Beach Miami to interview Danny Fuenzalida it was a black Sunday night.  The beautiful worldly tourists in high heels pretended not to notice Ratface flying over gaps in the sidewalk as they walked down the strip.  Again, a spot appeared like a flash of light to Ratface while the rest of us slept in the van and a spontaneous session was on.  A three-foot wide full-pipe set two stories above cement was enough room for him to perform a number of impressive tricks.  Down below on Earth, Daniel kickflipped a lengthy set of stairs.  We made it back to our beds just before sunrise.  Our last guide in Florida was enthusiastic 14-year old Matt Stokes (username “filmsallday” on Youtube) who brought us to his local skateshop, Flipside, for an interview and a session on a mini-ramp. 

Photos: Ryan Young

Words: Travis Schirmer

The heat settled and moisture took its place in New Orleans.  Bridges over swampy vegetation lead us to old men beneath straw hats swerving on beach cruisers and slow trudging tour groups.  In a flash across the van’s window, Ratface spotted a ramp below a freeway overpass.  Joel pulled off at the next exit to find a makeshift skatepark.  Trapped within the scent of evaporating urine stood a dilapidated quarter pipe, a fun box and a cinderblock ledge with attached metal coping.  We skated and interviewed two nearby spectators who—for the first time on our trip—denied us permission to use the footage after giving them a free board and a pack of cigarettes.     

Other locals such as Bourbon Street’s “Bucket Man”, a lyricist who improvises complex songs and amplifies them with an old plastic bucket, were glad to help us.  Within seconds of seeing the “Outside The Lines” decal on the side of the van, Bucket Man laid down a three minute freestyle that left everyone applauding.  We were also treated hospitably by Phillip, the owner of Humidity Skateshop.  He showed us some of New Orleans’ street spots while cops drove by without paying attention to us.  We all got lost on Bourbon Street at night, hopped a fence to go swimming in a classy hotel’s pool and were housed by a young woman at the core of the local music scene who dramatically intensified our partying.  The following day we left for Florida as a truck bed packed with kids waved us goodbye.