People used to make things with their hands when nobody would do it for them.
A few mates with a few bags of cement and some stolen wood from a building site. Make a frame. Fill it with rocks. Put chicken wire over it. Mix some cement up in a wheel barrow and pour it on. Drink beer until it dries. Skate it. Repeat.
It a rough, lumpy and usually pretty ugly. But thats the charm.
Now skateparks are everywhere. Clean, smooth, un-cracked bowls and street courses popping up all over the place.
So people don’t need to get their hands dirty anymore. Not if they don’t want to.
But, some still like making things for themselves.
I can’t believe they gave me the money.
Most of them wouldn’t, Not the big 4. Not way. When I was about to give up on buying the unit, when I was just about to pack in the job, move back into my car and head out North again, there was a nock at the door.
A tall pale man in a dark suit with raven black hair and eyes like coal. He smiled a cold sharp smile and introduced himself a B.E. Lubbuz, and said he wished to loan me the amount I needed for the unit and more on top of that. He had eight shadows stretching out from under his feet in different directions. I though that was a very cool trick to pull on an overcast day. I invited him in and made him some tea.
He talked for a bit about numbers and repayments and jargon but I lost interest quickly. I was hungover became distracted by a cloud shaped like a dinosaur floating pas the kitchen window. I noticed bright green flames would flicker in B.E’s eyes whenever he mentioned repaying the debt. Anyway, before long I decided to sign up and get this creepy guy out of my house. I was tired. Tired of everything. He had a fit of laughter when I signed next to the X and then disappeared in a puff of smoke. He left a cheque behind.
I went and got the keys the next day.