well its late at night, and I should be going to bed, but for some reason driving for 12 hours straight has cracked me the fuck out, so i figured I might as well write a brief note on my oregon adventure.
First of all I slaved away at three shitty jobs all summer to earn enough money to travel. So dont think im some pussy ass rich kid with a silver spoon up his ass, and a first round draft pick to the dream jar. Secondly, I was bored as fuck, and needed a plan, so I figured mount hood oregon would be a good choice. It had skiing, water, the ocean close by, and kids who like me, were drawn to the luminous flame of gnar stoke. I got on facebook, made a few calls, and off we went. Our crew, the poon goons we would later call ourselves, consisted of a girl, a hippy dude, a super skier pro dude, and what ever the hell I represent in this backwards fucked up world we live in that is rulled by highly evolved ass hole apes.
All the poons crammed into a ford escape, and drove to oregon. Along the way we some dude who died on his motorcyle, heard some good stories, had some deep talks, did some bad stuff, listened to tons of music, took some pictures, and I saw some prostitutes in Hood River, which for some reason really stood out. The prostitutes were wearing big black boots, thick juicy make up, and tight leather dresses which made them look like highly condensed hot dogs that had been crammed into a small space... if that makes sense. It was crazy sad to think that some lonely jerk off out there was going to throw down some of his hard earned cash to ride one of these glorious oregon whores, but hell, I guess some people think it is strange to drive half way across the country to grind some rails, and hit jumps. So to each their own.... another glorious example of subjectivity.
The first few nights on the trip were sketchy, because we were noobs, but eventually we found our place in the small ski bum town of government camp oregon, and became true gyspy kings, raping the world for its worth, at incredible savings! Some how we got jobs at windells, some how we got free tickets, some how I convinced my self to slay park again, and some how fucked up my knee again.... some where in the midsts of all this super sick action, I went to the coast, slept at some hipsters house in portland, saw some meteor showers, talked to a dude who saw a dude jump in front of a train, met some dude who used to kill guerialls in colombia for uncle sam and consequently went fucking insane(he not me), drank lots of cheap beer, got some shots, wore a guerilla mask, lost my skate board, and slept on a hot tub cover.... Needless to say hood times, are good times.
well yeah that was pretty much my trip in a nut shell.
