While my fellow shred brethren were erecting infernos south of the border, a few others set out on a 250+ mile shredfest of our own. Sunday morning met up with Tige, Scott and Anthony in the IE and headed to a “super secret” concrete pond. When we arrived, we noticed piles of what looked to be hair in the bottom of the pool. Upon further inspection, it was just PILES OF FLEAS! So we all freaked out a bit, then got to work. A super creepy unmarked, windowless white van rolls up and we expect some guy to jump out and offer us candy. Turns out it was only Cohort’s fearless leader, CK…board in one hand, tall can of Coors in the other.

Morning deuce to tail block.

Hangin’.

Tige was happy to get out of the house and apply some metal to the coping. CK approves. Maybe next time I will not shoot it late…probably not.

Scott decided he was going over the stairs this day and even though unsuccessful, his attempts were valiant.

The wind up.

Swing and a miss.

“What do you think about those stairs, Scott?” 

Packed up, left the Flea Bowl and Tige behind, picked up Shae-money and with a 10 to 215 to 15 to 78 to 5 fwy Grand Prix, we arrived in beautiful Carlsbad, CA, home of The Old Bro. Slowly waking from the freeway coma, we were welcomed by Bill, Chris, Mike, Dan, families, chips, salsa and sounds of the 80’s.

Chris, crail grinder.

Mike, sweeping the deck.

Anthony, backside.

Scott seeks redemption for the stairs with a FS air. Proper.

…and matching that with a backside.

…might as well throw in a scraper for good measure.

Anthony got this shot of my corner pocket carver and I give it the “OK”

Skated for a while, rocked Culture Club then headed down the street to Matt Hensley’s Flying Elephant for some grub and recap with the whole crew. Filled up, packed up and hit the highway home. A long day, but well worth it. I wonder how our Mexican hombres are doing with the flames…