I'm kind of sad writing this post. Since the whole of Utah county is under construction, BYU didn't want to skip a beat, and they're giving their campus a new face lift this year. They already took out that perfect 9 stair rail, knobbed a bunch of others, and, now, they've finished by taking out this epic double set rail, and all the other rails in the stair case. They just ripped them out. They're building a fancy new science building or something and just ripped out everything on this hill. And thus is the final score with Bolts of Thunder and this rail. Dave is the only person I know that ever tried to grind the rail. Maybe someone else has tried, but to my knowledge, Dave is the only one. So this spot will forever go down in Bolts of Thunder folk lore as crazy, and Dave will go down in legend for being the only one that tried it.

Man, this reminds me of this time we were looking at the rail. Dave was rolling up to it to see if he wanted to try it. He didn't put his board on the rail, he didn't do anything except ride up to the rail. Some BYU student walking by got super offended that we'd be desecrating the sacred handrails of BYU campus, so he took it upon himself to do the civil thing to do and called us out on it, "I pay money to go to school here! You're ruining the campus I pay for!" Me, Nick, and Dave, who were all present, were at the time all BYU students as well. I don't my pocket book hurt when I ride up to a handrail on campus. Or even when I grind a rail on campus. It doesn't hurt. So we told the kid that we were students too. "Then why are you destroying the school?!" "We're not destroying the school, man. What have we destroyed?" To demonstrate that we weren't destroying anything, Dave rode his board on the sidewalk up to the rail and said, "See, the sidewalk's still there!" Seeing that this was going nowhere good, and it could likely end with the kid getting beat up on the steps of BYU, I told the kid to just get out of there. When he saw Matt standing in his bouncer arms folded stern face temple clenched stance, and when Matt told him to shut up and beat it, the kid cooperated. Nick finished him off with calling him a fag. A final, crushing blow to our fellow student who prizes himself on being heterosexual. Anyway, I wish I could track down that kid somewhere on campus, if he's not off to med school already, and show him the pile of rubble that was once his sacred set of stairs. I would explain to him that we rode our skateboards too much on the sidewalks, and this is what happened. Then I would ask him if he was happy about his tuition being wasted on skaters ripping up the very foundations of buildings, plants, and stair cases. I think he would probably be upset, and he might even shed a single tear. No more though, because he'd be too busy studying at med school and focusing on his own millions before he'd really care too much about the paint being scratched off of a hand rail or an entire city block of school getting uprooted.

Anyway, Dave, our hat goes off to you, and our deepest respect goes out to you. Shine on, you crazy diamond...

Making me want to skate

I'm not sure if I've already put up these pictures or not. But they're coming up today, regardless. I like them a lot. They remind of of warmer times in Europe when skate spots were oozing out if the urine-filled corners of Paris, and Dan, Dave, Garrett, and Shereen were out skating with us. It was pretty epic. So that's really all I have to say today. It's cold out here in Provo, and my joints don't work too well in the cold. Finals are starting up, and I'm supposed to be cracking down with school instead of wanting to skate really bad, so I should probably get off the blog right now, it's just making me want to skate...

Man, I didn't realize I had a really good Kramer crop going. I should have kept it up. Not to mention that manly beard on my face. Way thicker than Dan's excuse for a beard... If life were only so kind. Anyway, I better go now.

Less mystery, more creepy

Well now we know who that dark character was in the background on yesterday's post. Matt. How long have you known about this, Matt? Were you involved? Is it just your thing to stand there as people skate? So many questions, no answers. Just silence...

So I had a dream a couple days ago that I filmed Sam backside 50-50 a handrail. He did it really good too. I mean, it looked like he was actually trying, he didn't have robot steeze. But he looked good doing it. So I think it should be our goal to step up Sam onto some handrails and get some for his next part. If I saw it my dream, that means it can happen. That's been my motto most of my life. That's why I still think I can fly off of Angel's Landing in Zion, kick Saddam Hussein in the nuts, and swim with the dolphins. I've done all of those things in my sleep. Actually, the time I kicked Saddam Hussein, I really kicked while I was sleeping and I pulled my groin. That reminds me of another time I did a backside flip in my sleep and ninja kicked matt's bed pretty good. He thought I was mad at him because he was talking to his wife on the phone, but I had no idea. I was just skating...

Fantasy skateboarding league

Today's post is another piece of the puzzle to help the question: "Where is Dave McDonald, and what is he doing?" Following standard procedures, Dave had this photo dropped off on my doorstep this morning, taunting me and bringing up more questions that answering any. So how did Dave get a hold of Matt's board? Why is he skating our flatbar? And who is that mystery rider in the background, so carefully hiding his face from the camera? Yes, this picture raises more questions than it answers, and I'd like to know what's going on. If you have any information on Dave, please come forward. Your name will remain anonymous, and you will receive a higher score rating in this season's fantasy skateboarding league. I've got Nick and Dan in the first heat, that's my guess. But I'll tell you a little secret, I think Matt's going to take the whole thing. Anyway, place your bets wisely.

This reminds me, I never announced the winners of last seasons fantasy skateboarding league. You know the rules, so I won't bother explaining them over again. But coming out in the final heat, Sam and Wizard were neck to neck, in the non-homosexual meaning of the phrase. However, Wizard fumbled his club, and Sam pulled ahead, mercilessly beating Wizard to a pulp and claiming lordship over the Bolts of Thunder enterprise. It's a good thing these little contests we hold are only fantasy or Sam would have taken over North America three times over. Anyway, this season is just getting underway, so place your bets wisely.

We walk the lonely road

Oh man, Zak got me out of a huge bind from my last post. I didn't know if anyone would respond, so I put a lot on the line offering to give away something that I doesn't belong to me and that I didn't have permission to give away. I figured if things got really bad, I'd make up a trick, say that Zak did it, and that way nobody would get anything. But luckily, Zak himself was the first to respond, and he got it right. Brian, had you been first and gotten your first choice, the backside 180, I would have owed you a handsome reward, one that I do not even have. Rachel and Drew, you two are correct, but you came too late, sorry...

So I found out that my wife is a way better photographer than I could ever pretend to be, so I nominated her this weekend as Bolts of Thunder's official historian. Her role is to follow us around with her handy cellular i-phone camera and document what in the world is going on with this institution. On Saturday, Wizard, Jeffrey, and I headed out to explore a ditch and see what good skating we could find, and Rachel followed behind, popping off shots like it ain't no thing. Actually, she only took this one picture for all I know, but it turned out super good. So I thought I'd put it up and announce her as our official historian. If there's anyone that doesn't like this nomination, make your voices heard. Then we'll know who the enemy is... Anyway, as you can see from this picture, it was cold, wet, and lonely. Thus was our ditch skating on Saturday.

Ultimate contest

Today's post is the ultimate competition. Your job is to correctly guess what Zak's board and feet did in between take-off and landing. For you lucky person out there that guess correctly, you get an autographed skateboard by Bolts of Thunder's very own Zak Smith (Zak, we didn't talk about this earlier, do you have an extra board you could sign and give away? If you guess right, you can just keep it for yourself. I really hope this is ok with you...). Zak's all for it, he has his signed board waiting at home on the mantle, and he's eager to give it to whoever guesses correctly. Good luck!

Enemies at the gate: Teenagers wearing diapers.

When last I left you, my butt cheeks and stomach were clenched tight as I had just opened the sewage system of Pandora's Box in my pants (read yesterday's post if you're lost). It was bad. And I was in a car full of my entire family on a 45 mile drive to the nearest bathroom, so there was little I could do to hide it. What ensued was a half an hour of constantly rolling up and down the windows on my dad's part. Every time he rolled up the window, the stench quickly filled the car, and we all accused each other of farting again, and my dad would roll down the windows again. I think the last 10 minutes or so, they got the hint that this smell wasn't going away any time soon, and they just left the windows down. I kind of rolled over on to my side and sat down on my hip rather than my butt so I didn't smash my fecal matter into the very fibers of the car seat. I mean, come on, I'm a decent human being, have some respect for the mini van! I sweated profusely and said prayers that my insides wouldn't explode all over the place and tried my best to slip into my happy place. It required serious mental concentration to endure that car ride, concentration that only comes from years of prior experience and preparation. Keep in mind that the enemy had already breached the city walls. It wasn't like I just had to go real bad and was holding it, but there was already an unwelcome guest at the party, and the rest of his friends were fiercely banging on the door, trying to break their way in. You've seen the battle at Helm's Deep on the Lord of the Rings, you know what I'm talking about. Imagine the riders of Rohan trying to hold back the Urukai after many of them had already breached the great wall. This is tough stuff we're talking about here.

When we made it to Glendale, we pulled into the only gas station/ restaurant around, and I prayed they would have toilet paper in the bathroom. My prayers were answered as there was an entire package of toilet paper waiting for me in the bathroom. The clean up of this mess was like nothing you've ever seen before. Imagine if hurricane Katrina had dumped sewage water all over the place. That's what it looked like. It required an entire roll or toilet paper and probably 4 flushes or so just to clean myself up. My boxers were obviously soiled beyond the point of trying to repair them, so we said our good byes, and I left them in the garbage. But that presented me with a dilemma. Even though I had gone to the bathroom, my stomach was far from settled. It was still an angry storm in there, and there was no telling when the next assault might be. In the event of a second attack on the car ride home, all that would be protecting the car seat from me was a thin layer of khaki pants. Knowing that the battle was far from over and we still had a good 45 minutes to home, I did the Eagle Scout thing to do and fabricated a diaper out of an entire roll of toilet paper. Yes people, a 15 year old wearing a homemade diaper so he won't get diarrhea on the car seat. Have you ever conceived of a more humiliating scenario? Thus was my lot, the load I had to carry. I wrapped the toilet paper around my leg in every conceivable fashion, sealing off every possible exit. After about 20 minutes in the bathroom, I slowly made my way out to the car, proceeding with caution in every step as to not disrupt my tightly wrapped diaper.

I'll conclude by saying that the car ride home was uneventful, and a nice shower awaited me at home. In the 12 years since the event, I have not eaten so much in one sitting, and I have never again sharted so fiercely. The road was long and hard that I had to walk that day, but the lessons I have learned have stuck with me till now, shaping who I am and paving the way for my future. That's it, end of story.

As you reflect upon this story, think of Matt's smiling face and remember where you came from.