Metered Grind
Tapia space from sidewalk
Tapia space from stairwell
Charge, improvise, skate,
The park was beckoning me to charge its gnarled interior with reckless abandon. Its surface wasn’t perfect, as oil marks and ragged asphalt blemished its craggily surface. The confines of the park, while limited, provide the dimension of a concrete curb buttressed up against the parking space providing endless possibilities of skateboard fun. “Clink” goes the quarter plunging down the gullet of the parking meter. The sound brings a smile to my face, bringing similar feelings to mind as I once had arriving at the neighborhood park as a kid, or later as a teenager arriving at a skateboard park. My time is paid for, letting loose the wheels in my head to spin up my first improvised skate trick in my own private skatepark as my quarters’ seconds spill away. Get another parking space, cars! This one’s mine to grind, slide, and spin over till the meter signals that the park is closed till further notice. It’s time to skate!
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