Last night the weather channel was predicting below freezing temperatures. Since I know a thing or two about grass (I cut it professionally in the off season) I knew exactly what this meant. Grass producing dew plus cold temperatures equal frost, which for me equals fun. You see, I’m a professional frost boarder. I do things on frozen grass most would fear to dream about. Not me man, I got no fear, and a closet full of T-shirts to prove it.
It’s hard to get gnarly when you’re frost boarding, unless you build a super gnarly dirt kicka. photo/ Paul Miller.
Anyways, I called up one of my many photographer friends, and he drove up to spend the night. The next morning we awoke to a frost boarders dream: blue skies and frozen grass. Since the frost was no match for the rising sun, we were on it quick. I got my gear on, took a new board out of the wrapper, and headed out the door. My backyard happens to be a mountain, so I was buckled in and ready to go quick faster than a hurry. I sat around for a half hour or so, while Warren, I mean, Paul Miller adjusted the little dials on his camera. Once he was ready I dropped in, strait lined it for a dirt mogul, and threw what I believe to be the dopest indy so far this year. The morning continued this way as I pushed the level of frost boarding to dangerous new levels. Screw you bastards that ride snow, frost is the dope shit.
A kicka’s not really Xtreme unless you hike it, brah. photo/ Paul Miller.
I had to end my session early to catch a plane to Austria. I have a big indoor frost-boarding contest tomorrow. So while you are hanging out with your stupid friends, dressed up like something dumb for Halloween, I’ll be enjoying the limelight, as some silicon enhanced model type carries my board for me into an arena of screaming Euro fans. Peace out.