Passion

In the summer of 1988, I got a job at the cannery out on Madrona in S. Salem. I worked graveyard shift. I was 17 and this was my first job. I worked every night, six nights a week, eitght hours sorting beats on a conveyer. With my first check, I bought some parts for the bike I had ( I think it was a crappy Redline), but I hated that bike. It was easily five years old and had obviously been stolen many times. I had traded several bikes in the past year and each time I got a little better bike, but I hated that bike.
With my second check, I put $75 down on a Haro master. It was silver, black and chrome. If I remember right, the bike was about $425. Over the next few months, I paid it off. I never missed a day of work. It sucked. Then, one day, I got my check, went down and paid it off.
I went straight out to Bobby and John Bristol's house and rode all day. The next day, I called in sick to work and didn't go back except to get my check. Within a month, I had broken the frame, which Haro warranteed. They sent me a blue, black and chrome master. I broke that one within two months and they sent me a black, black and chrome one. I broke that one and Haro said that they had honored their warranty. I thought so too. I also knew I wasn't going to buy another one.
I bought a Diamondback Woody Itson signature frame. That frame was incredible. I broke the forks within two weeks, but the frame lasted quite awhile. With that frame, I turned expert in the NAFA, hit seven feet of air of the Bristol's halfpipe, learned to scuff, roll and power-roll (what we called all the two-footed tricks, like hitch-hikers), did hikers down the bike path at a scary speed, learned to street ride, including 12th street banks and the corner wall. Then, I met Woody Itson at a AFA freestyle contest. He was the nicest guy, though he obviously was not a top pro, anymore. He was still progressing, still learning and had nothing but good things to say about everyone. He talked about Kevin Jones as being the new school of flatland. I was impressed. Freestyle was changing at that time, and most of the pros were falling behind and on their way out. I broke the frame a little while later and the bike shop gave me another one. I broke that, too. They gave me a street frame, which I hated. I traded it for another (newer) master and turned pro in flatland. My first and only contest, I won. I wouldn't enter another contest for 8 years.
There were some of the best times in my life on those bikes. I mark my memories by the frame or parts I was using at the time. I never had a car, never had a job for very much longer than I needed to get the parts I wanted and I was happy. There is alot about those years that I miss. The freedom of being outside mainstream American society and not giving two shits what people thought. For a long time I was the best flatlander in Oregon and that made me proud. Bikes are a part of me. I raiese a toast to those long dead bikes of my youth...May you rust in Hell.
Now, I have my Fraction. This bike is by far the nicest bike I have had or probably ever will have. The days of living to support my bike are gone. The bike is low on the list. But I have managed to keep together a nice ride. Sometimes I STILL sit and look at my bike, just like I did when I was 15 years old. Without a flatland bike, I will not see the world in the same way. With one, I see the world from behind bars.
~J