The hidden alleys and back streets of san fran were feeding grounds for youth in revolt looking for a thrill, looking to get piss drunk and fill their brains explode with a nitrous gas, out of balloons that never exploded themselves. with no sense of danger, feeling like they’re flying on a piece of wood and four wheels. high on the drug of life, of living. the adrenaline was the blood that pumped through their veins. the same blood staining all these back alleys and back streets. no sense of direction in life but a sense of fucking any and every direction on a set of their wheels. ruthless god damn skater kids.