Monthly Archives: November 2011

Sacramento and beyond

I’m Jeff and sometimes I write stuff (even though this is actually Jarod, father of Jeff, and this sentence is my intellectual property). The end of the first chapter left our bearded heroes waiting for Miss Ramona Compton. The lovely Ramona kept feeding us and providing drink. Truly a gracious host if there ever was one.

We got dropped off with our skateboards (and the lovely, distant, nostalgic feeling of getting dropped off  by your mom to go skate) downtown. We wanted to check out the railroad museum but when we inquired about the hobo discount for admission, the un-aroused  guard-lady informed us that they don’t even do senior discounts.

We ended up at FTC skateshop to meet the nicest skater with a cold that we’ve ever met. The sickly owner graciously drew us a map of spots! We ended up at this famous spot where Jeff filmed Jarod skate in a decidedly unfamous way.

We left Sac for Grass Valley and met an Englishman.

While waiting for Jeff’s brother to get off work we scurried around for pizza and beer. The beer proved to be elusive.

The following day local white rapper, marijuana enthusiast, and all around sweetheart, Randy Merrill, offered the boys the use of his truck after Jeff dropped him off at work. We took full advantage of it by watching 8 hours of Seinfeld at the Merrill household…. and filling his house with smoke; not the Randy Merrill kind of smoke though…

We spent the next two days eating pork chops and drinking Jim Beam, I remember something about cards and rapping?

On the way back to Sac we took up residence at a magical little house with batting cages in the backyard.

After trying to hitchhike to the Bay we realized that we probably aren’t cute anymore, we’re approaching thirty. After six hours and a stupid sign, we’d traveled a whopping four miles. Better luck tomorrow…


This is the web edition of the remix edition of the video version of the zine that is also a band sometimes. First things first. Look out for the hard copy, with lots of sweet ass photos of skateboarding and people doing stuff in different places. Now, for the web remix….

The trip is off to a start, and a pretty good one at that. The trip I refer to is the one where me and Jeff bum around with our skateboards and cameras and look for stuff to do. To begin, we left in a hurry on the pre-day 1 and it led to horrible things. Jeff fell off of a moving freight train because he was fixing his hair and checking himself out in the reflection on the steel. It was wet and cold. So we went back to the salad lair to enjoy some booze and lesbian dance partyage.

Day two started off better, even with a later start and a more vomitous Jeff. Kati Green, bleached hair extraordinaire, gave us a ride on down to the getting spot. The train came quicker than you could say Taco Bell and Cigarettes. We had literally and figuratively been there for five minutes, when our train came and we promptly said our goodbyes to our dutiful servant and friend Kati. Highlights of the 24 hour ride indcluded a Mt. Shasta sunrise, dice, and of course hanging out in a tiny bathroom with Jeff and our packs for an hour and a half (figuratively sweating our balls off) while trying to evade authorities on a 38,000 pound machine that we weren’t supposed to be on.

We hopped off at a random siding some miles north of Yuba City, CA. Upon getting out of the unit we quickly realized how far from Portland we were.

We still had a spell to go before we were in Sacramento with mama Compton, so we walked across the street and promptly received a ride from Carlos. After smoking one of his cigarettes, he told me and Jeff that we could smoke crack in his car if we wanted. He also drove erratically (and erotically), while smoking Marlboro Reds and speeding. Oh yeah, and Jeff was sitting in the back seat, next to the car seat with an adorable two year old.  The only thing I really understood, was that 1. we could smoke crack if we wanted to and 2. his wife puts 87 octane gas in the car and that’s why it is idling so roughly. Thanks Carlos.

After a long walk along a stupid bridge into Marysville we found the world’s worst hitchhiking spot (where Jeff took an out of focus photograph).

An hour or so later we got picked up by a Juggalo who took us to Olivehurst, CA; wherever the fuck that is (editors note: about 30 milies from Sacramento, CA)

By the time it got dark we decided to do the most badass thing we’d done yet. So we called Jeff’s mom to come pick us up at a gas station. After this terrific hang out sesh in the field next to the Tower Mart, mama Compton drove us back to her house in Sacramento and fed us chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes and gravy… mama Compton. Welcome to California.