He Hates Skateboarders, He’s Afraid to Say

In 10 years of column writing, I’ve tackled all the hot-button issues of the day. No sacred cows, no subject off-limits.

(As you can see, an element of self-grandeur runs through my work.)

Politics? Religion? Bring ‘em on.

Oh yeah, you say, what about skateboarders? Why don’t you write something about them?

Frisky as toads (see March column), pesky as fire ants (May) and ubiquitous as crows (July), skateboarders somehow have glided under my radar. Not a word about them this year.

Am I afraid to take them on?

Ha, that’s a good one.

It’s just that . . .

OK, maybe I am afraid--but not of skateboarders.

I’m afraid of confessing that I . . . don’t . . . like . . . skateboarders.

There.

I’m fed up with their incessant clackety-clacking and their endless curb-jumping drills and how I have to move out of the way on the sidewalk when they come roaring by.

I say all that, knowing what I’m really fed up with is getting old.

There’s usually only one good reason not to like skateboarders, and that’s because you’re old and grumpy. It’s like realizing you’ve finally hit the age where other people’s radios suddenly are too loud for your tastes.

I saw my first skateboard 25 years ago in a newsroom office in Nebraska. I predicted to friends this California fad would never last because it took too much energy to keep one going.

That prediction proved somewhat wide of the mark, given that skateboarding has turned into an international industry.

Truth is, I’ve never liked skateboarders, but I used to subscribe to a live-and-let-live philosophy with them. Now, in my dotage, that has been largely replaced by a desire for vengeance against them. Instead of running them out, my town of Huntington Beach has built two parks for them.

Driven Off His Rocker

It pains me to admit that if I were 25, chances are I wouldn’t give that a second thought.

But I do give it a second thought. In fact, I curl my lip every time one of those young guys goes flying by (I’ve never seen a girl on a skateboard). And when they hang around parking lots or street corners at 11 at night and practice their various maneuvers, so they can get an early start the next morning. . . .

Aargh!

I just want to go over and give them a darn good shaking, except that they’d probably beat me up or call me a bad name. At the very least, I’d like to screw up my courage and walk up to them and say, “Dudes, that is very irritating. And noisy. Please stop this instant and return to your homes and develop a new hobby and transportation mode.”

Given these feelings, I privately exulted after reading that Huntington Beach High School is banning skateboarders from the campus. School officials gave a bunch of reasons that once upon a time probably would have sounded to me like a lot of hooey.

This time around, I found myself nodding in agreement and not caring what reasons they gave.

I would have accepted this reason: “We just don’t like them.”

That glimmer of hope aside, I see no signs that boards are on the way out.

The best I can muster is to resign myself to peaceful co-existence.

Still, did you hear that Costa Mesa cops recently took pellet guns to about 20 crows who were bothering residents? The complaint was that there were too many of them, and they made too much racket.

You don’t suppose that. . . .

Nah.

Just to make sure my memory was correct and that I hadn’t ever written about skateboarders, I checked our files.

Lo and behold, a column emerged from April 1991.

I wrote it after the Huntington Beach City Council voted to ban skateboarders from commercial areas. I talked to a merchant or two and a few skateboarders. I referred to a couple of the skateboarders as “cool” and an upset merchant as “middle-aged.”

I let the skateboarders off without so much as a cheap shot.

But, to twist Bob Dylan’s lyrics around, I was so much younger then.

I’m older than that now.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821 or by e-mail to dana.parsons@latimes.com