Gosh, that must be great - Brief Article

Thrasher Magazine, Sept, 2002 by Jake Phelps

I GET IT A LOT--bars, airplanes, trade shows--people always tell me how lucky I am. I get to go to the places most skaters only dream about. That's great. The hard part is finding places that I've only dreampt about: Mythical pools, abandoned skateparks, underground legends. So that's what I do.

Why go some where new when it all looks the same?

The complacency factor plays a role in modern life. Skaters are no different, Some of our nomadic tribe quest and find things only wished for. Let me be the first to tell you, there is no luck involved. As a consumer and as a skater I want more--more vert, more coping, more everything. It's like I'm on a treadmill that never stops. I get word of something or someplace, check for photos or valid recon, get tickets, and the heat is on. I don't go to "rip," I go to survive. Far off lands, sleeping in bowls, buying rafts at Walmart in Texas--it's like I never grew up. I am always going camping. Most people of my generation have already been married, divorced, rehabilitated and tired, left to sit in front of their TV sets waiting to die. I'm scoping for the next mission. Maybe some of the younger kids could care less about legendary spots or 20-hour ferry rides, but some of the true Thrashers follow my tracks. Tom Groholski lives in Florida and works for UPS. He gets a week vacation. He goes to the places he see i n the mags, from OZ to Brazil. He has told me he keeps doing it because he's right behind me. That stokes me to the bone.

When I got the keys to the mag in 1991, I made it a point to get behind the wheel and floor it; I have. A lot of my friends didn't make it--drugs, injuries, and gravity all take their toll. And after 30 it ain't no picnic, but go I must. I'm sitting on the airplane right now and the guy next to me is talking about "Tony Hawk' and "X-Games" and all that other crap he sees on the TV screen, but if I told him about "Amarillo" or "Quito" or "Mikasa," his stare would be blank.

Life is what you make it.

There are no blueprints, no manual. Every morning you wake up and ask yourself, "What do you want to do today?" To me, the answer is always clear: Let's go Hellriding. No ifs, ands, or buts. Live it now. Live it hard. Die tired. And live forever knowing that was the only way to get it done. I'm not lucky, I'm cursed. I don't brag about it, but this mission is the real deal. We get dirty, stinky, and paid so other people can say "Gosh, that must great..." You know what? It is.