Comfort is Freedom
There’s something about the sound—metal bearings spinning in a wheel. If you skate, you know it. It’s simple, mechanical, and almost unremarkable to anyone else. But that hum takes me straight back to some of the best days of my life, and at the same time, it makes me want to grab my board, pull on my old pair of broken-in jeans, and head out. Doesn’t matter if it’s a mellow cruise or a full on session. It’s not just noise. It’s the sound of freedom.
From the first day I stepped on a board, that feeling’s been there. It’s not the kind you get handed—it’s the kind you earn, slam after slam. Every bail teaches you something. Over the years, my jeans have taken the hits with me. Scuffed knees, frayed cuffs—years of progress beaten into the fabric. They hold memories better than a phone ever could.
The thing is, memories aren’t just for looking back on. You’ve gotta keep making them. That’s why I still get out there, carving the same streets I grew up on, hitting the same ledges. Sure, boards are lighter now, streets are smoother, denim is softer—but the core feeling stays the same. Movement, air, the slight give of the board beneath my feet, and jeans that have been with me through it all.
Over time, I’ve outgrown a lot—tricks I used to do, spots I used to hit, even whole parts of my life. But some things stick with you—not just because they last, but because they’ve been there through all of it. Because they’ve been there for every stick and every slam. You don’t break them in; they break in with you.
So yeah, I keep skating. Not chasing my teenage self, not trying to prove anything - just stacking more moments. Every ride adds a new story, another crease in the denim. And I know that years from now, the sound of those wheels will take me right back here. Same streets, same feeling. That’s the thing about freedom—it’s not just a memory. You find it over and over again.
