Listening to a lot of Glass Candy... I resist for a long time like I do with a lot of over hyped artists. I've opened up for this band a hand full of time years ago and only now I am really starting to grow into them...
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
How I got into Scootering: Part One.
Where do I start? It's all very, very, very fuzzy. Let's start at the beginning. Let's go all the way back to High School shall we... This all takes place around 1994. I used to be really into skateboarding. When I wasn't in school I'd be on my board. I had just discovered Hardcore and Punk thanks to a friend of a friend and I was all about it. In your teens It's all about finding out your identity. I was never into drugs or booze and I had found a clique of friends that fit in for awhile, but how can you truly know yourself if you don't step out the norm. I had been Straight Edge for awhile. I was never really into the Music that much. Don't get me wrong I love Gorilla Biscuits, Chain of Strength, and Minor Threat. Let's be honest. It was the 90's and a lot of straight edge music at the time sucked. Terrible recordings and really bad angst-y lyrics.
I had recently declined my Straight Edge-ness and started hangout with some of the Skinheads in my town. I have always been fascinated by this bunch. The hypocrisy of Skinheads in High School is pretty hilarious as I look back. I would say maybe seven-eighths were actual Skinheads who actually had jobs while a small minority were rebellious rich kids living off their parents or myself actually poor living off my mom. And a hilarious sight I was... I couldn't afford the proper clothes. So just imagine me with a shaved head, baggy clothes, braces, and hanging out with a bunch of Skinheads. It was pretty awesome. With most teens at the time there was a lot of inner turmoil within the clique and of course the "racist" rich kids needed a lesson taught to them and are clique didn't get along with those assholes. The "Traditionalist" all converged at my Mom's apartment because we could get away with it. My Mom worked at night which meant the coast was clear to get drunk or whatever. My older brother who lived there was a speed junky and always up for a party. My brother Kenny was fucking insane and down to fight pretty much anyone. He already looked like a skinhead: shaved head, tall, white and crazy as fuck. It didn't take more than free beer to get him into hangout with us and getting into trouble. The lot was fucking afraid of my brother and for good reason. He is now serving a life-sentence in Folsom State Prison if that gives you a general idea of how crazy my brother is/was.
As the party progressed there had been talk of settling the score between the cliques of "skins" at the Bowl downtown. We we're all getting fueled up for it at my Mom's apartment. One of the Skins in our clique had invited these two Skins from the LA to come hangout, get drunk, and fuck shit up. They arrived at our apartment complex parking lot via Vespa. And that was the first time I've ever seen a Vespa. I'm pretty sure they both arrived on P series. It blew my fucking mind. How fucking cool is that? Two Skins on fucking Vespas. All I'd ever known about motorcycles were Harley's because my Dad owned a couple. Dirt bikes, because my brother got one for Christmas and rode the shit out of it on my Dad's ranch. And ATC's because it had three wheels and I was allowed to ride it at age eleven. My dad still doesn't know I flipped that fucker over and almost landed that thing on myself. This is before they got banned because of said incidents occurring. This isn't how I came into loving Vespa. This is just my story of my first time actually seeing a Vespa Scooter and associating it with people who ride them.
Long story short. We never got to fight anyone because the cops showed up. The car I was in got pulled over because we were circling the Bowl look for strays from the fight. We were questioned by the cops but they couldn't do anything because nothing ever happened besides some of us arguing with the other skins in a public space. I hung out with these kids a little while longer but ended up going back to skateboarding, straight edge and going to shows. The skinheads I mentioned settled their feud and became more violent. A couple years later they ended up beating up and killing a homeless man for no reason. Some got away while one got the short end of the stick and is doing time... I never seen those two Skins on Vespas ever again. And I didn't see another Vespa again until 98' and that's for another story.
... To Be Continued.
I had recently declined my Straight Edge-ness and started hangout with some of the Skinheads in my town. I have always been fascinated by this bunch. The hypocrisy of Skinheads in High School is pretty hilarious as I look back. I would say maybe seven-eighths were actual Skinheads who actually had jobs while a small minority were rebellious rich kids living off their parents or myself actually poor living off my mom. And a hilarious sight I was... I couldn't afford the proper clothes. So just imagine me with a shaved head, baggy clothes, braces, and hanging out with a bunch of Skinheads. It was pretty awesome. With most teens at the time there was a lot of inner turmoil within the clique and of course the "racist" rich kids needed a lesson taught to them and are clique didn't get along with those assholes. The "Traditionalist" all converged at my Mom's apartment because we could get away with it. My Mom worked at night which meant the coast was clear to get drunk or whatever. My older brother who lived there was a speed junky and always up for a party. My brother Kenny was fucking insane and down to fight pretty much anyone. He already looked like a skinhead: shaved head, tall, white and crazy as fuck. It didn't take more than free beer to get him into hangout with us and getting into trouble. The lot was fucking afraid of my brother and for good reason. He is now serving a life-sentence in Folsom State Prison if that gives you a general idea of how crazy my brother is/was.
As the party progressed there had been talk of settling the score between the cliques of "skins" at the Bowl downtown. We we're all getting fueled up for it at my Mom's apartment. One of the Skins in our clique had invited these two Skins from the LA to come hangout, get drunk, and fuck shit up. They arrived at our apartment complex parking lot via Vespa. And that was the first time I've ever seen a Vespa. I'm pretty sure they both arrived on P series. It blew my fucking mind. How fucking cool is that? Two Skins on fucking Vespas. All I'd ever known about motorcycles were Harley's because my Dad owned a couple. Dirt bikes, because my brother got one for Christmas and rode the shit out of it on my Dad's ranch. And ATC's because it had three wheels and I was allowed to ride it at age eleven. My dad still doesn't know I flipped that fucker over and almost landed that thing on myself. This is before they got banned because of said incidents occurring. This isn't how I came into loving Vespa. This is just my story of my first time actually seeing a Vespa Scooter and associating it with people who ride them.
Long story short. We never got to fight anyone because the cops showed up. The car I was in got pulled over because we were circling the Bowl look for strays from the fight. We were questioned by the cops but they couldn't do anything because nothing ever happened besides some of us arguing with the other skins in a public space. I hung out with these kids a little while longer but ended up going back to skateboarding, straight edge and going to shows. The skinheads I mentioned settled their feud and became more violent. A couple years later they ended up beating up and killing a homeless man for no reason. Some got away while one got the short end of the stick and is doing time... I never seen those two Skins on Vespas ever again. And I didn't see another Vespa again until 98' and that's for another story.
... To Be Continued.
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