Thoughtmeats and the Longboard of Power

So last night, after a pack of camels, forty-eight ounces of Sierra, and a generous hit off the steamroller, Kuana and I took the famous Longboard O' Power out to go bomb some hills. After riding on it for five minutes, I realized that I would have a fan-fuckin'-tabulous time cruising with it, or suffer an "untimely accident". Death isn't so bad as long as it's in a moment of glory, right? I would prefer Death By Sex(™) and though I've certainly come close with a few encounters, when the rubber meets the... well anyway, I doubt my partner would be down for it- people are so prudish these days... Anyway, the board, as it's name suggests, is more well-endowed than the pot-resinated-sticker-covered-squeaky-slab-of-board from of my youth, and thus skating it, as a lukewarm early 90's movie once put it, is like "driving a really big pinto."

We got to the Hill and prepared. We removed all excess clothing and pocket change, grunted, stomped around like cavemen to get the adrenaline flowing some more, and Kuana went down first.
"Damn that shit looked fun" my chemicals said. This spurred an argument:
"Shut the fuck up, ya junkie," snapped The Logical Side, "you're high! You're on too many chemicals, and only some of them from me! You wake up tomorrow with a steel plate, I'll be pissed. I've worked too fuckin' long..." Now, I resolved this argument the proper way... I patted my logical brain on his little fuzzy head, made like like I was going to comply, and then kicked him back down the basement stairs. I hopped on the board, put all my weight on my front foot, and let go. Kuana's one pointer was this: "When you're flying down the hill, you're going to feel like you are going to eat it. The only way you don't fall off is by concentrating all of your energy on not eating it." This made sense at the time, and as I was flying down the hill, ba-dump over the speed-bump at the bottom, up the hill of the next street, and back down again, I found I didn't think about this. I didn't think. Just looked. When I finally coasted to a stop, I felt like a Golden God who had just overthown Vahalla and made Odin clean my latrine. My pores were streaming, my breath was full, I laughed.
"You want to go again?" I heard him say.

We skated the hills for another hour or so, then changed location and went to this other hill that goes down about two blocks in Vallejo. I had conquered the Bunny Slope, the Hill, and now I was ready for the Expert Run. Kuana stood on the corner and watched for cars. I kicked off and went down, nearly flying off at the speed. My logical brain rapped on the basement door. We lit up a joint and offered him some. He accepted and mellowed out. Kuana went down twice and then I went to go again. After I got the "all clear" signal and started down, I watched in slow motion as my friend ran into the middle of the street to stop an oncoming car that tore around the corner at top speed. Oh fuck. Said I, and abandoned ship. I jumped off to the front and side and managed two loping strides before I realized I couldn't beat my momentum, so I "opted" to hit the asphalt instead. Got up to see Kuana retrieving the board from a bunch of bushes and I laughed. I looked over to the car and saw it was a bunch of old hippies, the woman hitting the steering wheel and laughing so hard her shoulders shook. They drove off and Kuana came over. I stopped laughing and looked down at my pants. Oh fuck. I was still wearing slacks, and I wish they had been jeans. They probably wished it too, as they were ripped for about five inches from my knees on down. My knees underneath didn't look too happy, either. I sat down. I wasn't too badly hurt, and we hung out and bombed the other hills again before heading back to the trailer. I promptly drank some of Slash's whiskey some smoke and felt good and alive. You have to give pain that. This morning I awoke. My Logical side had written a note in red and left it across my knees. I told him to fuck off, rolled over and hit the snooze...