Where Do I Begin

By Eric Swisher aka @chromeball

A Christmas Tale of a Sixth Grade Grom

I’m willing to bet 78.4% of my entire generation ordered their first skateboards through the fine folks and friendly enablers at California Cheap Skates. Not that I can cite any form of reputable scientific research to validate this figure, it’s admittedly more of a wild, nostalgia-drenched proclamation as filtered through the rose-tinted glasses of your humble narrator… but let’s just roll with it, shall we?

It was 1988, and that number I can confirm with the period-appropriate mullet seen in my sixth grade yearbook photo. My buddies and I had recently discovered skateboarding in the spring of that year, and after suffering through an endless summer as objects of ridicule with our cheap department store boards, we had all talked our parents into ordering us “real boards” for Christmas. Yes, we were finally moving up to the big leagues. Not that any of us were actually very good at skating yet, but our all-encompassing brand of 10-year-old enthusiasm had clearly proven undeniable.

Luckily, it was around this time that our buddy Jay’s parents ordered him kneepads and a helmet from CCS after a series of horrifying spills nearly put a tragic end to their beloved son’s life. But while that unused safety equipment still gathers dust in a corner to this day, the far more important aspect of this transaction was a California Cheap Skates/Surf Style catalog included with the order. Sure, we’d noticed their signature blue ads in the back of magazines before, but seeing Cheap Skates in all its full-color glory with a seemingly never ending selection of boards couldn’t have been more captivating to the hungry eyes of an overeager grom. And as a result, this little catalog got passed around our crew with the same fervor as a stolen centerfold from your Dad’s dresser drawer.

But what board should I get? This was quite a big decision for someone who just a few years prior had seen “ninja” as a viable career option. I’m not sure I was ready for this early foray into self-identification. After all, there were so many choices of boards and brands, each one loudly announcing a myriad of unspoken characteristics about the person riding it... I was really gonna have to give this some thought! Because I’ve never been much of a skeleton guy, so Powell was probably out. Vision always seemed a little too neon for our non-California locale, even in the eighties (I blame the berets). And while the boogers-and-barf aesthetic of Santa Cruz matched my 10-year-old sensibilities perfectly, my friend Dan was already getting a Roskopp, which would’ve made my purchasing one a serious faux pas. Beyond that, I just wasn’t tough enough to join the Alva Posse, and could never convincingly pull off anything “Hosoi” because I didn’t have long hair, I liked wearing shirts, and I’d never been to Hawaii.

I finally decided on a Schmitt Stix Chris Miller, along with Gullwing Pro IIIs and Bullet 66 wheels. I’d like to say my deck decision was informed by Chris Miller’s incredible style, along with his innovative kicknose shape being presented here for the first time, but honestly, I just liked the graphic. It was a wolf. I also went with Gullwings because Chris rode Gullwings, which seemed like a valid enough reason at the time. And the logic behind my choice of colossal 66mm wheels? I just thought the name sounded cool. I didn’t even know what the “66” meant. Ignorance is bliss.  

…Oh, did I mention it had blue griptape? Yeah, and I can’t even blame Chris Miller for that one. This terrible decision was all mine.

It was essentially a vert board. A poor choice for an unknowing beginner who had barely even skated a quarterpipe before, let alone the nearest halfpipe being 4 hours away. It also must’ve weighed a good 40 pounds, as it sported almost every piece of protective plastic we could find from noseguard to skidplate. You name it, it was on there. Because as far as my parents were concerned, this skateboard was going to last me for the rest of my life… And in a curious way, it has. Not the board itself, but what that first setup represents. An excitingly strange, often confusing rite of passage that serves as every skater’s full initiation into this most wonderful thing. One that continues to inspire from grommet to geezer, because there is no “right” way.

37 years later, I still have CCS (and my mom) to thank for it.