Solo in the Hood

Full moon, breezy night in Sanchong. Tropical skating means find ways to cope with heat, and one way is to freeze a 2 L bottle of water and put it in my backpack, drinking it as it melts. I headed west across Taipei bridge, well aware that the wrong fall over the wrong crack or loose tile would mean a Palomares style broken arrow event. Don't skate with ice on your back, it's like skating with a nuclear weapon in your suitcase. 

The city was already sleepy by 23:30. The chirps and songs of insects in the river park were alien and aggressively relaxing. Normally, they are either drowned out over the roar of scooters, or simple can't exist, because northwestern Taiwan is a 5000 sq mile parking lot, and nothing lives or grows here besides people and cockroaches. In other words, ideal skating terrain. Beset by weeklong depression, I wanted to go hear some crickets. Sanchong it was.

A car was blocking the exit of the yellow jacket rail by the bridge. I started across the bridge, and a Taike man rode by on a bicycle, turning to stare at me over his shoulder in amazement. It's my kind of neighborhood. I like being the minority. 

The air was clear tonight. Mountainside lights were twinkling. 

I had to avoid the little land crabs as best I could. They were scuttling all over the spot. Only one car was going by every 30 seconds. It's remarkable when the traffic dies down, because you can hear each individual car or scooter as it goes by, instead of a cacophony. Sometimes, I heard the splash of fish jumping in the river. A longboarding kook skated by on the bike path. 

I stacked up the empty beer cans until I couldn't ollie over them anymore and then it was time to go home. I went past where the overhanging plants on the sooty levee walls had traced perfect half-circles on the hydrocarbon blackened cement; they swing in the wing and scrape their radius on the levees. 

I've learned to zigzag on the tiles, to reduce the impact of each crack. It slows you down less than trying to go in a straight line. I love Datong. You know it's the hood when 7 hasn't bothered to restock the shelves at 3 am. That shit wouldn't fly in Xinyi.