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…