Like Moses mixed with some kind of post-industrial spray paint poacher I imagine Ted first finding this place… mattresses and miscellaneous debris, diapers, dropping hints of potentiality. Our Lost Colony came in a wave of wooden ramps that died rotting in the rain, but gave birth to a generation of less and less shitty cementitious offspring.
When the first concrete trucks showed up, it was our Revolution. Total greenhorns, we hand-stacked 16 yards that day and the place exploded. DIY spots can be a thrilling endeavor. Especially when they’re guerrilla. The owner at that time was just too cheap to hire the jackhammers, god bless him. If anyone else owned it we would have been nixed, but sometimes you look back and see providence.
With a mix of survivalism and sincerity we hung the huge American flag the day we poured the Taco. Jake told me he got a blowjob on it as he handed me the folded flag from the rooftop of a Home Depot. We watched Will climb the sketchy extension ladder up to the top of an ancient unused utility pole, while we held that ladder like it was Iwo Jima, and afterwards Teddy, a true cynic, said it was most patriotic day of his life. They wouldn’t bulldoze ‘Merica would they? Confusion tactics.
This DIY skatepark is how I express my patriotism. And isn’t there some analogy about this great country being founded on pirated land? The property soon sold to developers and miraculously they let us keep building. The flag kept flying. A new era of legal existence dawned. They even named the road Foundy Street after our spot. Its a confusing experiment figuring out how to run the place legitimately. We’re now required to pay for an insurance policy with a higher price tag than annual construction costs. There are posted rules now. Freedom isn’t free.
The impending gentrification can feel like a fishbowl, with slack jawed tourist in sunglasses staring in on our once private sovereignty. And there’s days when its just the homies and we exist independent of the world and the terms connecting us to it. Sometimes I wonder how long our spot will last. If all that’ll be left one day is the street name, like some displaced Native American tribe nobody thinks of when their smartphone tells them “turn left on Choctaw st.” Those stars and bars we hung up that day are getting pretty ragged. Its time for a new flag, probably made in China, to let the world know we’re good citizens, patriots in fact, building up this community. This is our beacon of liberty.