It had been a long while since I had last taken a road trip. Traded the hustle and bustle of the day to day for the open road and stories shared. Exchanged the fruits of the daily grind for the rhythmic bouncing blur of telephone lines and a seemingly endless double yellow line. Yes, it had been a minute since I had last ventured out beyond the borders of our fair metropolis, explored the world beyond the computer screen. You see, injuries as serious as the one I suffered in December (compound fractured leg) tend to redirect your life. They reshape the process by which you experience, change your focus, your goals. It had been almost four solid months since the accident, and admittedly, before this trip, I had been waining. Skateboarding had always been apart of me, but now, for the first time ever, it had become inaccessible, temporarily beyond my abilities. It had felt like the degradation of relationship. The slow passing of something that had started out so wonderfully fantastic. Something colorful and vibrant, gradually transitioning to grey. I hadn't been out of LA since Christmas, and without the ability to skate, everything for a time just felt like a diversion from my pursuits unrelated to skateboarding. However, I took it as a change of pace, I may not have been able to skate, but I could still shoot photos and I could still tell the story, and I needed above all else to be reminded specifically why I fell in love with this sport to begin with. So when this trip presented itself, I made moves and secured a seat in the van.