My Ghastly New Ride

Check out the curved rails.

Back in 1986, when I was about to buy my first skateboard from Allskate in Waldorf, I was told by my friends to never buy a board for the graphics alone; one should always buy a board for the shape.

So after looking at all of the decks in the shop, standing on quite a few to see which one felt just right, I selected the board I knew I was getting all along because I saw it in a magazine and thought the graphics were awesome: the first Schmitt Stix Lucero.

I used to have this sticker on my Lucero.
It was partly tucked in the wheel well.

After that, every board I ever picked up was either given to me, or I bought it based solely on the coolness of the design. C'mon! I was a fan of art. I loved skateboard graphics. I loved illustrations way more than skating. I borrowed my cousin John's Jeff Kendall just so I could attempt to draw it. I tried to copy the illustration for Kryptonics' Bomb King, and I even tried copying Powell Peralta's infamous Skull and Sword (the latter of which I wish I could show you. It turned out so bad. SO BAD. Imagine an impatient 12-year-old's pencil sketch version of one of Vernon Courtlandt Johnson's most technically difficult illustrations).

And now, in 2014, as I rapidly approach my fortieth birthday, and after years of buying boards for the wrong reasons, I finally came around to buying one strictly for the shape. Todd M. sent me some links and discussed sizes, specs, dimensions… you know, e'rything a smart & informed shopper would need. He steered me online toward the perfect board, and I bought it for the shape.

Who cares about graphics? I thought. I'll sand 'em away, spray paint over 'em like Jon Bulldog. Who cares?

I had the board shipped to Dischord and raced over there after work on Friday. I couldn't wait. The weather reports were calling for sunshine and temperatures hovering around 60˚ for both Saturday and Sunday, so I was excited as all get-out. When the deck emerged from the box, Melissa Q was standing next to me, and she laughed immediately, saying comically, abruptly, and without hesitation, "Oh my god that's hideous!"

And she was right. 

I mean, I knew it was ugly when I ordered it. But seeing this grisly monstrosity in person was shocking. I took a photo of it, but I can't share it with you because I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings on the Interwebs by being so specific (what if the artist actually reads this blog?). I can, however, detail the imagery in words, so try to imagine this:

• Apparently, it's a skull. 
• In shades. 
• With hair. 
• I guess the skull is screaming. 
• And wearing a crown of thorns. 
• There is television static in the skull's mouth. 
• There are spikes everywhere.

I don't know what kind of deadline this graphic artist was up against, but I assure you … dude could've used an extension. It's the kind of illustration that's captured best in blue ballpoint pen and strictly reserved for the backs of a jean jackets with the sleeves torn off.

Who is responsible for green-lighting this?!

Who said, yes, this image will be mass-produced?!?!

I like to imagine a Mad Men-style, smoke-filled, male-dominated board room meeting led by an overweight, sweaty executive chewing a gnarled cigar, who pulls the pasted illustration up from an easel and gruffly exclaims in the voice of Johnny Caspar from MIller's Crossing, "Yes, this is the one. This is the illustration we're going with. The one my dog, Pom-pom, drew while listening to Ride the Lightening."

Hey bandmates: click for a larger image.

I intended to buy sandpaper and paint, but I felt compelled to urgently cover the board with the quickness, so, with a bunch of Minutes stickers lying around the house, I used 24 of 'em to do the job. I know I may look like a complete megalomanic by putting stickers of my own band on the bottom of a board, but trust me when I say, I didn't see another viable option. It was either Minutes stickers or nightmares for life.