Ah, summertime in Santa Carla, California. Once the birthplace of TNUC, and now memories which bring back day trips on our Yamaha's, ripping down the beach to the yearly carnival. The fried dough, cotton candy and corn dogs could be smelt a mile away. Street vendors, piercing booths, airbrush t-shirt stands and hardbodies graced the busy streets.
This friendly, inviting, sandy corner of California was quite a different scene when night fell. Believe me, TNUC should know, he's been banned from the boardwalk since 1987. Before that time, we ran the boardwalk and were the symbol and spirit of teenage invincibility. Hell, even the carny workers listened to us.
It would start out with a pretty typical friday night. I'd be greasing up the Yamaha in Old Man Covington's garage, periodically checking in on him, waiting for him to finish that last drop of whatever snake-piss he got himself into that night. As soon as he knocked out and I had fed my pet Iguana, I would roll the motorbike ever-so quietly out of the driveway, the only slight noises would be coming from the tires rolling over the black, slick pavement from last night's rain.
Cue the late night warrior roam. Like a hungry heard of stylin' bison, we would take the night on with a vengeance, and we weren't the only ones. All the cave dwellers would come out when the sun went down. Stylistically speaking, wardrobe malfunctions just didn't exist during those days. Donning a leather trench coat, one dangling cross earring, a torn up mesh shirt and gloves w/ cutoff fingertips would start you out in the right direction. Some fresh bleach through the hair and a sharp switchblade wouldn't hurt either. Once you were ready to take on the night, the possibilities were endless. Maybe you'd start out intimidating people on the merry-go-round...and then work your way up to having a "feast around the fire". We can't divulge too much information here to the public, but lets just say, it all depended on how far you were willing to go.