“Y

eah, this tooth, sophomore Abraham Park said, pointing inside his mouth, “is actually fake.” Park was seated in a Starbucks cafe. It was a busy Tuesday night, and in between moments of reliving his skateboarding days, Park stopped to chat with passing friends.

Much like his fake tooth – disguised among a row of pearly genuines – Park has a hidden story of his own that is easy to overlook. Since sixth grade, Park has been “bombing” the streets on his skateboard. For Park, skateboarding is more than a sport; it’s a lifestyle, and he’s lived it on the edge.

As Park shifted his Starbucks chair, his eyes moved about the room and he thought back to his first time stepping on a skateboard. His replies were fast; clipped with the energy of someone who’s willing to speed down hills on nothing more than a thin board with wheels.

“My sister wanted me to become a skater for some reason,” Park recalled. “She thought that skaters were cool back then, and being a ten-year-old kid, I wanted to be that cool kid.”

For Park, skating quickly became more than a way of being “that cool kid.” Skating became a means of rebelling; a means of testing limits and making noise.

“Once I started skating, I became a little rebel,” Park said.

Park started spending more nights bombing streets with his friends. He would meet up with his friends in the evening, then head out to find places to skate. Inevitably, he caused trouble. It wasn’t unusual to be kicked off lots by security guards, or even chased away by cops.

The clatter of coffee roasters almost hid a barely detectable change in Park’s voice. His thoughts came even faster; one after the other, as his mind wandered back to late nights spent skateboarding. Something more sensitive had been touched in Park’s memories. He took a moment’s pause, searching for the best way to put his experience into words.

“Yeah, I’ve been kicked out of places,” Park said. “I vandalized. I mean, you can’t really skate without vandalizing. There’s nowhere to go other than skateparks, and who wants to pay 15 dollars to go somewhere to skate? So you go around downtown Clayton getting kicked out of places.”

One downtown Clayton parking garage, known as the “up-down-yellow” by Park and his friends, was a favorite hangout. The garage featured a curb, that was a great place to practice and do tricks, regardless of the security guard who patrolled it.

What most bothers property owners about skateboards are the small metal trucks located on the bottom of the boards. The trucks, which attach to the wheels and bearings, scrape away paint and chip concrete when a skateboarder grinds. Over time, skaters wear down the surfaces they perform tricks on. Property owners will often go to great lengths to remove skaters from their buildings.

Park recalled one night a cop was called to clear his group out of the “up-down-yellow” garage.

“The cops came but we ran away from them so we were fine,” Park said. “It was a daily practice to run from people when skating. It was just more extreme and more adrenaline rushing to run from cops.”

In truth, it’s not fair to call Park a skateboarder anymore. He’s a penny boarder, and there’s a difference. Pennyboards, which are significantly smaller than skateboards, aren’t designed for tricks. The smaller, softer cousins of skateboards are perfect; however, for commuting.

“Things are more subtle. Things are more predictable,” Park said. “I’m not sure if that’s the right word, but you feel better off. You don’t have cops chasing after you. That gets tiring – it’s hard on your feet too.”

When Park switched boards he found a new purpose for skating. Instead of rebelling, bombing streets became a way for him to create his own world.

“Pennyboard is more relaxing because sometimes when I’m bored, and it’s the weekend, I just grab my pennyboard, I grab some money, I grab my sunglasses, music and then I just go,” Park said. “I don’t know where I’m going. I just head out for wherever.”

For Park, pennyboarding is simply relaxing.

“Sensations. Going down a hill. It’s just great,” Park said. “You’re listening to your music – the music is great, it enhances your mood so much – and then you have wind all over your face. It’s making your hair go wild like you don’t care.”

In the Starbucks, Park seemed to find a new energy amongst the tired coffee-goers. He gleamed with an honest interest. In that moment, it was plain that skateboarding meant more to Park than a mode of transportation. Park would never put skateboarding on a resume, and he wouldn’t be able to collect a case of trophies. It was clear that Park skateboarded because he wanted to.

“You know the roads, but you don’t know where you’re going to end up by the end of the day,” Park said. “It’s just a great sensation.”