Eugene Jam

Words and photos by Jeremy

I’m not sure when, exactly, the idea was put forth that Sonny and I should put on a jam of our own, but I think Joe planted the seed. Over a period of a few weeks, Sonny and I decided that we would. We had the perfect spot, too. The 105 bridge crossing the Willamette River covers a basketball court where Eugene old-schoolers such as Cash Reynolds and Jesse Puente rolled back in the mid to late 80’s. With the forecast predicting 30% chance of rain, it was perfect.

Except for the fact, which we discovered Friday, that a Gay/Lesbian organization reserved it for festivities lasting the duration of the day. Fuck is right!

So we moved to the courts at Chucrchill Sports Park, where the Churchill skatepark is, attached to a highschool. Justin was first on the scene and had his bike out of his european wagon and spinning jugglers and steams instantly, with the occasional J-stall thrown in to work the abs. Cash Reynolds actually came out, lured by the promise of a bike to ride. The bike in question was my park bike which needed some chain work. Cash worked on it the entire time we were at the courts.

Anthony and James showed up with the shirts and a couple of very dialed bikes next. James had an S&M LTF which was chrome-plated. Drool, you know you want to.

Brett showed next and I got hooked up with two pairs of his ti-ended pegs for a very good price. They even had cheeta print grip-tape. He proceeded to flow around the courts, non-stop. Every time I looked over, he was rolling, switching and smoothying.

He also brought the most sano un-bike I have ever seen.
Sarge (Paul Miller) was next sporting large guns, facial hair, sun glass tan and the Tank, his ghetto ride. I have to admit, I was really stoked to see him. The level of positive energy was off the scale and we took turns making tire marks in the gritty, yet fast, surface. But, as Sonny fired up the BBQ, the rain made good on earlier threats and sprinkles and opened up for real.

We moved to a covered spot at the high school entrance and it turned out to be a great spot. While steaks and burgers BBQ’d riders shared the tiny spot as cameras caught the action. Cash had the bike going and seemed to feel right at home breaking out rolling tricks like butter. The vibe was at an all-time high. Steaks and burgers were passed out, thanks to Sonny’s set-up. It was a medium sized BBQ/smoker strapped down to a low trailer made from a pickup bed and it was dialed.

Sonny’s traveling Flatland feeder.

He takes his BBQ’ing seriously, using cherry wood to add natural flavor and never uses gas. The meat tasted great.

Which was about the time security rolled up. The fucker. Ok, we have been at this for twenty years and have come to realize what it means to have a job to do. We get it, security has to make us leave, but be human about it. As we rolled out, I offered him a bribe of a steak, trying to be cool and joke with the guy. He was a straight up ass about it. Fuck him.

The vibe would not be stopped as the crew, minus Anthony, moved to the Creswell spot which Sonny and I have been loving since I moved in October. The general consensus seemed to be that the spot was all I had foretold it to be and worth driving to as the session continued.

As the session wound down I realized just how great all the guys are and how much this jam meant to Sonny and I. It was kind of giving back, though I wish Joe could have made it. He busted his ass providing the t-shirts which turned out great and deserves a good steak.

Thanks to everyone who made it out and contributed to the awesome vibe. Thanks to Sonny for the eats and motivation. We’re gonna do a little jam again, possibly in the winter, since our spot is lit and covered year-round.

It was a good fuckin time.