Bank Ramps or Bust

Words by Adam Burgess
Photos and Captions by Rob Meronek

I hate lugging all that photo gear, so I just go with the basic camera body and lens and skate from spot to spot with that in my hand instead of a gargantuan backpack. Adam's chest wouldn't be a black hole if I used the giant flash thing you put on the top of the camera like a periscope or something. Oh well, you can still tell it's a steezin' frontside ollie over the bank gap

Funny to see a "no skateboarding" sign in front of a structure that's more fun than a lot of skate parks that cities waste tax money on

Yes, WZA, you are

The dusty garage scene was great - a keg, skateboard ramps, beer pong on the left, and a higher than normal ratio of chicks hanging out

A random lurker at the garage skate/keg party

Alex Brownley made this front board pop out right after the filmer put away the camera

Cullen's foosball table has everyone from Ronald McDonald to Beetlejuice on the team

Ryan Dodge is going to hop in fakie on this pivot. The rough brick makes it tough just to get the speed to get to the top of that thing

Yes, it was thousands of degrees below freezing at this mini-marble bank in downtown Jacksonville

Ryan Dodge - kickflip wall ride at the garage keg party

Ryan Dodge - kickflip over the bank gap. How come so many historical monuments are perfect for skateboarding?

The chill cam took a half decent skate photo. This is Ryan Dodge doing the other kind of bar hopping

Grown men getting lost in the woods - we need a Cub Scout

The side of the Silver Springs banks is a rough hip to nowhere

Look for this sign on the hunt for these banks. You might also look for Adam Burgess to be doing a backside ollie up there

Ryan Dodge could have easily made this frontside 270 over the rough hip to nowhere, but he was over it. It still makes a nice take a poop pic, though

There was a decent sized crowd chilling on each side of this bank to wall that Adam's doing a nollie out of. I can't believe there were no major shark bites

Cullen Traverso - thanks for the beers, skate spots, place to crash, and more. You're welcome to the same here in Tampa. Cullen ripped at the skateboard kegger we were at. This is a frontside 180 nosegrind on the bench at a few beers beyond the legal driving limit (2mb mpeg video)

By the time we were done skating this cellar door bank to wall, the ply was about to break through. I thought someone was going to unintentionally find out what was in the basement. Adam stayed out of it with this wall ride to fakie

After I graduated from secondary schooling I had thought that writing a paper was going to be a thing of the past. Luckily for me, I get to work on my writing skills because of a few aspects of life I hold dear to me; waking up early to the rising sun, traveling with friends, appreciating the great outdoors, and of course skateboarding. All these points will be covered in the following grouping of text known as a short story.

So the story begins with me sitting on Ryan Dodge’s front porch consuming an apple through the largest hole in my body, my mouth. Shortly after I had finished contemplating the wonderful flavor and texture of my beloved Fuji apple, Ryan arrived. We assembled our things with experience and then went to scoop up the infamous Wes Dipold. Who is Wes? Wes be the WZA. After picking WZA up and turning around to go back to his house to retrieve his forgotten wallet, we sailed to the luscious landscapes of Harbour Island, the temporary home of the Ragin’ Asian (I think his alias should be changed to “the Rasian Asian” from here on out, thus it is done.), aka Rob Meronek. We then went back to WZA’s crib to find his left behind, but never neglected, skateboard.

After an hour or so drive, we ventured to this hefty harsh brick BANK that I had spotted the last time I levitated to Saint Augustine. We thrashed the massive BANK in 40 below weather (Floridian weather calculations are never quite accurate.) and then high tailed it to the North Eastern coast of Florida. Upon arrival, we rendezvoused with St. Augustine’s finest, Cullen Traverso. I currently have no alias for Cullen, only my following observations; Cullen is one of the most genuine people I have met this side of Texas, he’s down with the F.U.C.C. posse, and when skating with this beast of a man, you best watch out! If a collision formulates, and Cullen is in the equation, you will be the one laid out with a kink in your spine.

After our helicopter landed, we set foot on the oldest city in the U.S. of A. We met Cullen at a keg party located in a large garage with 'herra' tight home-made ramps. Most of the ramps were constructed with scrap wood and house siding, and the course consisted of two small BANKS with a sketchy quarter in the middle, a tight one-foot-tall quarter, a bench, and a BANK-to-wall. There is nothing greater than beer and wall rides, just ask Ian Gow and Brian Sloane. So we skated, lurked the beach, and drank the keg dry.

The next morning, the sun woke me around 7am and we all stood up around 8:30am, synchronized like swimmers with no pool. We ended up eating breakfast at the Oasis. This cozy joint offered us seats at the bar and conversations with an aged drunkard, who told tales of 4am surf missions and lessons on mixing cocktails. Our posse hovered to downtown St. Augustine and skated an ill BANK spot. We all ripped like no others, and made our way to the St. Augustine cement park (Go to this park before your time is over!). We thrashed with the swiftness and then crept into the woods in search of the yeti. No yeti was found, but WZA, Cullen, and I climbed some trees and I remembered how much I love the earth in its most simplistic forms.

We casually walked out the woods via the tree tops like Kung Fu masters, and descended on downtown Jacksonville. The weather in that part of town was around 15 below, and we happened to pick the first spot on the St. John’s River. This location lowered the temperature to about 23 below Fahrenheit. This spot consisted of a marble BANK and a marble manny pad. The structure was dedicated to something important that went down in Jacksonville, but regardless of its dedication, we all made monumental moves on that particular apparatus. Our crew then pushed around the city like true street warriors and schralped numerous cuts. All of these cutties incorporated some sort of BANK, and after getting the boot from Clyde Singleton’s home town spot (refer to Trilogy, the 101 section), we found yet another BANK-to-wall. I skated until my legs evaporated only to lie in the sun with WZA like the true bums that we are.

Once I heard those two blessed words, “Let’s go,” my legs reformed themselves like the Terminator and we were off to St. Augustine to drop off our host. After departing from Cullen’s crib, we hit the road and respected the law by driving the speed limit. After the Rasian Asian bought his dinner, a Miller Lite tall and a pack of Chips Ahoy cookies, we arrived in Tampa only to find that WZA had forgot his brain in St. Augustine.