Holland, !1
Michaela Holland
Miles Corwin
LJ101BW
Final Article
Ramped: The Ascension of a Limitless Skater
Somewhere off interstate eight, near the border of Mexico, in a hot, dry dust bowl, a
lone giant reaches toward the prickly sun. From a distance, it appears like a roller coaster at an
amusement park, a dangerously high point that steeply slopes into lesser structures. After
minutes of approaching the structure at 65 miles per hour, it became clear that this was not for
entertainment.
It's called the “The Ultra Megaramp,” and it is the biggest ramp ever to be built in the
history of ramp building. Unlike a rollercoaster that has a comfortable seat, a track, and
propulsion mechanisms, this is little more than wooden sheets propped up by crude metal frame.
The left side is home to the tallest section, narrow and rigidly erect. It is an Evel Knievel, vertical
drop that rolls into a slightly shorter and much wider construction that has a slight overhang, like
an expansive, Hawaiian surf wave. Perched on top of the broad wooden wave, like a lightning
rod, is a narrow dark additional piece. It’s a measuring stick, mounted on the left side of the
ramp, so as to accurately measure height without obscuring the path of the fearless rider rolling
65 miles per hour towards a new world record.
There is only one gladiator that can face this Goliath with a three foot board covered in
black grip tape, elevated by four 59 millimeter wheels, and wearing minimal protective wear. His
name stands among Laird Hamilton and Travis Pastrana, some of the greatest athletes in extreme
Holland, !2
sports. A skateboarding legend at forty-one years old, who continually stretches the limits of his
sports, Daniel “Danny” Way holds world records for distance jumped on a skateboard and top
land speed on a skateboard. His newest showdown with “The Ultra Megaramp,” is planned to be
his last broken barrier in skateboarding, a means to suppress his current world record for Biggest
Air on a skateboard of twenty three and a half feet before he officially retires from the sport.
Way has sharp, blue eyes that compliment prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw line.
His face is slightly worn and tanned, as if from a long hard battle. He has a circular scar on the
corner of his left eye and a white jagged puckering one on his right forearm that is give or take
the length of a ruler. A mouth, usually poised on a brink of an easy smile, is pressed together in
deep thought and a high forehead creases with worry. “Almost there,” he mutters under his
breath. The rain has caused delays in the jump, and Way is patiently waiting for the most
favorable conditions. Wind, fog, rain, can all affect the way the board rolls down the goliath
structure. Its monstrosity rivals Danny’s four story-tall creation in Kauai, Hawaii or his three
story-tall construction in China, where he jumped the Great Wall of China.
*
*
*
“Nothing’s too gnarly,” is a phrase coined by Way that accurately describes his daredevil
career. His first colossal fantasy was built on an airfield from a napkin drawing. An August day
in 1997, less than ten people witnessed the Big Air record shatter to Way’s sixteen-and-a-half
feet launch from the “Super Ramp,” but Way was thinking about something even more gnarly.
“Will they let me jump out of the helicopter and into the ramp?” he asked his older
brother Damon Way.
Holland, !3
Damon spoke to the helicopter pilot, who had shuttled the small group to Brown Field in
San Diego that day. Danny fully expected his request to be denied, but a few moments later his
brother walked back with a look of shock. It was a go.
Danny jumped into the helicopter, board in hand, and as the helicopter circled closer to
the ramp, he tried to contain his grin and instead bobbed his head forward and backward with
excitement.
A witness Rob Dyrdeck, a fellow professional skateboarder, comments in an interview
with documentary director Jacob Rosenberg that he was in a corner completely “sketched” out.
Way made several attempts jumping out of the helicopter and into the ramp. On some attempts
he hit the ramp at fifteen feet and coasted downward, but others he fell almost the full thirty feet
to the flat section of the slope. Dyrdeck admits that he flinched during every crash landing.
Danny soon landed perfectly onto the ramp and rolled away into the belly of quarter pipe
without a slight wavering of balance, which can be easily spotted by a slight wobbling of the
board, excessive leaning, and even sporadic arm movements. Spectators describe it as an
“incredible moment.” Those who saw a picture of it on the cover of the 1997 December issue of
skateboard magazine say it was “mind blowing,” but also realized that Danny had raised the bar
to a whole new level. It was the first “Bomb Drop” on a skateboard the world had ever seen.
*
*
*
Standing on the flat belly of the “Ultra Mega Ramp,” Danny begins to strip off his
protective gear. In his full equipment, from a distance, Way looks like the neighborhood kid with
an over protective mother. First, he unclips, high quality crash helmet, a sticker mirage of well
known brands, such as DC Shoes, revealing a headful of pin-straight, muddy blonde hair. Then
Holland, !4
he flings off the custom made elbow, knee, wrist and hand pads. If Way does not land cleanly on
his board after that height, he falls into the wooden wave and slides on his hands and knees at 45
miles per hour. This amount of friction can instantly burn off skin and melt through standard
pads, so Danny’s custom pads are ones developed and experimented on by himself and a
company named Boneless. Underneath those pads are braces and gaskets, equipment that is both
imperative and preventative. Way jokes that he is the Iron Man with the countless surgeries and
replacements that he has been through. He walks with a small limp that favors his left side and
throughout the day winces at certain movement.
*
*
*
A huge thunk brought a tense silence on the packed and rowdy crowd of 18,000 in the
Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles. Way was attempting a pass in the Big Air competition
on the “Mega Ramp” of the ESPN’s 14th X Games of 2008, an event and apparatus he
introduced to the Olympics for extreme sports in 2004. He was measured at more than twenty
feet above the already twenty seven foot tall quarter pipe, but he began to free fall and wildly fail
his limbs. A sickening noise was created when Way’s shin clipped the lip of the quarter pipe. The
impact caused his body to completely flip forward in a sprawled airborne position, landing
square on his back at the bottom quarter of the ramp’s incline feet first.
“Like a rag doll,” he says. His paralyzed body slid down, exhausting the rest of the inertia
on the long flat part of the wood. He finally came to a halt at the center of the large, red X Games
logo.
Its documented in the X Games website as the second worst fall ever at the X Games
with over 500,000 hits on numerous Youtube videos. Red-shirted medics rushed to him on the
Holland, !5
ramp, and one began to rub her fist on his chest as he gasped for air. He refused to be helped off
the ramp. His right foot was destroyed, but the paramedics could not tell exactly, because after
being wheeled to the trainer’s room in the wheel chair that waited for him off the ramp, Way
began to stand up. They hurried to stop him, telling him that he was done for the day. His wife
Kari argued with him appealing to common sense. Their young marriage and pregnancy had
already begun to erode by their differing opinions and views, and later that year would dissolve
in a difficult divorce. The medics had locked out concerned peers and fellow competitors, who
rushed to see Danny after the fall in the training room. Another pass would be foolhardy, they
pleaded. He thought to himself, that’s not my style, and limped his way back to the top floor of
the Staples Center to the entrance of ramp. The crowd had hardly recovered from the hush of his
collision, but an even deeper silence and suspenseful breaths held them captive when the
announcer noticed Way’s return.
“When there is a will, there is a Danny Way,” said the man behind the microphone, sitting
comfortably in the press box.
Danny mounted his board and after a breath, pushed off, and began to roll straight for the
quarter pipe. Body and board rose high in a manner very similar to the first take, attempting the
exact same trick. Breaths were held as he began to descend. With mastery speed, Way grabbed
his board turned it 360 degrees around, before planting it firmly under his two feet, dropping
smoothly into the quarter pipe, rolling back down, and standing on his board triumphantly with
his two arms thrust high in the air. The dam of tension in the stadium burst, as the crowd began
to wildly cheer in amazement at the comeback they had just witnessed. At the top of the ramp
Holland, !6
competitors banged their boards on raised wooden platform and metal bars to add to the
glorifying din, and the man behind the microphone exclaimed, “Are you kidding me?”
Danny didn’t shed a tear during the ordeal of the 14th X Games, not even after he
received his first and only second place in Big Air despite his fluid comeback pass, but when he
thinks back to the honor and respect he received from that incident his eyes become red and full
of emotion.
Danny has had more than 60 orthopedic surgeries in his career. His ACL has been
replaced three times, he has had more than two broken ankles, a dislocated shoulder, and
uncountable scrapes, bruises, sprains, and aches in his thirty-nine years of skating. He doesn’t
mind the recovery time after these invasive procedures, but it’s the surgery itself that gives Way
the most displeasure.
“Its this thought process that someone is going into my body, cutting it open, putting stuff
in, taking stuff out, grinding things up. It feels gross to put on the white gown, rolling by on the
surgery table and seeing all the tools they are going to use,” Way reveals. But it is something he
has to overcome. He realizes the most important vehicle in his career, the one he must sacrifice
the most for is his body, not his skateboard.
*
*
*
Way’s mother and father, Mary and Dennis Way, met in 1970 on the hippie trail to
Oregon, where Damon Way was born in 1972 and Daniel Way was born in 1974.
“Danny wore me down,” says Mary, when speaking of Danny’s childhood.
When Danny was eight months old, his family decided to return to Carlsbad, California
from Oregon. Shortly after their return, Danny’s father jailed for ninety days, due to unpaid child
Holland, !7
support from a previous marriage. Nine days later there was knock on the door, a man from the
jail explained to Mary that Dennis had been hung in his jail cell.
Mary found a new mate in a man named Tim O’Dea, a California surfer with an appetite
for fun and risk. He built homemade skateboards for Damon and Danny. Three-year-old Danny
found that he could put his knee on the board and push himself to keep up with his older brother.
From then on out, the skateboards went everywhere with the boys.
The brothers were first exposed to the concrete bowls of the 80’s when they drove by Del
Mar Skateboard Ranch. Tim turned the car around and signed both the Way brothers up for a
membership. They had to lie about six-year-old Danny’s age, who was too young to be allowed
into the skate park. At Del Mar, the boys met other soon-to-be skate legends like Tony Hawk,
Christian Hosoi, and Matt Hensley.
Things at home became unstable. Mary was still reeling from the loss of Dennis and
began to cheat on Tim, which ultimately led to a separation. Substance abuse was as frequent as
the ever changing boyfriends for Way’s mother, bringing steady bouts of physical abuse onto her
and her sons. The police were regular visitors in the Way home in Vista, California.
Searching for security outside the house, Damon created a tight bond with a group of
skaters, near his age. Regardless of their bullying and risky dares towards younger Danny, he
constantly sought attention and respect of his brother’s peer group.
One day while skating around the neighborhood, a scuffle broke out, and Damon was hit
in the head. Returning home with Danny, the fifteen year old boy started having epileptic
seizures. He was rushed to hospital, where he barely survived, but his skateboarding dreams
Holland, !8
died. After that incident Danny became even more intense and driven on his board. He was
determined to “go pro” for his older brother.
Described as Dennis the Menace, Way was an ornery energetic prankster, that was
constantly looking to others for validation and acceptance. Continuing to improve and impress
on the skate ramps, he was only thirteen years old when signed as a professional with Powell
Peralta, the top skateboard company in the late 80’s.
But the youngest professional on skate tours was self-destructive, a wound up,
temperamental teenager with braces and a desperate need of structure and guidance, who decided
to pull his braces off with a pair of pliers. Mike Ternasky, a 5’ 2’’ eighteen-year-old guy with a
long goofy pony tail and an angular shaped face, became the father figure that Way needed.
“Mike always told me that there are a lot of skateboarders that approach skateboarding
without a professional mindset. He would say to me that to be a top professional I would have to
treat myself like an athlete,” Way shares. Ternasky encouraged his young skater to forsake the
party lifestyle of the industry and create healthy habits of eating right, getting sleep, and staying
fit. He also taught Way lessons in humility and respect, such as acting appropriately in front of
idolizing, young kids and patiently signing large quantities of autographs at skate demos.
Ternasky transformed the skateboarder’s career from foul teenage revelry to the respectable
career and reputation he upholds today.
It was unheard of for someone to leave an established company like Powell Peralta to
join a start up company, but Way did it for Mike. Plan B was created in 1991 with the claim that
they were creating the “Dream Team” of skateboarding. Young talent like Danny Way and Colin
McKay were paired with older skaters like Sean Sheffey and Rodney Mullen. Their first skate
Holland, !9
video Questionable is still considered one of the most defining moments in skateboard history,
because it displayed a progressive transition from the dying techniques of vert or ramp skating,
which originated in skaters skating in drained pools in the 70’s, into the new arena of street
skating, where skaters use a less structured environment to create tricks from picnic benches,
curbs, handrails, and other urban landscapes.
During this time, Way became fluent in extreme sports other than skateboarding. In the
early 90’s he was a professional skateboarder for Plan B skateboard, while simultaneously riding
professionally in snowboarding for the sister company Type A. He has footage of himself doing
advanced tricks on a motocross vehicle, as well as a surfboard. He was awarded the award of
“Skater of the Year” by Thrasher Magazine in 1991, consistently winning competitions, even
when his arm was in a cast and sling. Danny was on a high from the wide recognition, the money
and a stable peer group, but a careening crash was in the distance.
May 17th, 1994, Ternasky was pulling out of his street in Poway, California on his way to
the office. Turning, when his light became green, an elderly woman ran a red light and T boned
his car, instantly killing twenty-eight year old Ternasky. Danny was a wreck at the funeral, he
couldn’t even choke out a few words about his mentor during the burial.
Less than month later in a freak surfing accident, Way broke his neck. Before that time,
Way had never been seriously injured and lacked experience with doctors and physical
therapists. He assumed that a visit to the chiropractor would help with his pain. Without the
injury being properly diagnosed and treated, the chiropractic adjustment left Way incapacitated
for six months. He searched for treatment to relieve the pain and prayed for a miracle. Numerous
doctors turned him away saying that he would probably never skate again. During that time,
Holland, !10
from the shoulders up, Way was paralyzed, had limited function in his arms and legs, and wore a
fat white neck brace. It was one of the darkest moments of his life, where he lost all motivation.
In a last effort to save his career, Way sought out a respected holistic physician, Dr. Paul
Chek, founder of the CHEK Institute, a bald man with eagle-like features and a calm, but
slightly nasally voice. Chek describes Danny’s neck “like stone” and any small movement could
rip his spinal cord, causing even more severe paralysis. After four intense months of correction
exercises, diet shifts, lifestyle changes, and manual therapy, Danny won the first skateboarding
tournament he entered after he had broken his neck, the 1995 Tampa Pro Contest.
“Danny is made of the stuff of genius,” says Dr. Chek, but others call it obsession or
compulsion. Way is known to dwell on a skateboarding trick that he wants to accomplish to the
point where he loses sleep. He drives himself to have a willpower to achieve goals, and
challenges, he will add, makes it even more “rewarding.”
*
*
*
Standing among the small crowd at the foot of the “Ultra Megaramp” is Danny’s
manager, agent, friends and fellow athletes, and his girlfriend Rochelle, a long-limbed woman
with high cheekbones, almond-shaped, blue eyes, and a bright smile. With an upbeat aura, she
speaks to her boyfriend in musical-like notes. Not apart of the entourage, due to school, are the
Way children. Ryden, Tavin, and Rumi from Danny’s marriage with Kari.
Time revealed that youthful passion between Kari and Danny could not withstand
maturity. Danny will observe in retrospect that both parties grew apart and chose to “follow their
own paths to find happiness.” Kari and Danny share amiable exchanges during their weekly
trade-off of parenting their three children.
Holland, 1! 1
For the sake of his children, Way wanted to work through the troubled marriage. “I was given the
gift of fatherhood which changed my life for the best,” posted Way on his Instagram, when his
son Ryden turned sixteen.
*
*
*
Off the 5 freeway, three-and-a-half miles down Encinitas Boulevard, away from
the hippie beach strip, and the local hole-in-the-wall called Mozy's Cafe, which is always packed
with the local surfers, couples, and school-ditching teens, is a poorly paved road. Adorning the
bumpy street is a beautiful gate. The stereotypical iron fencing is replaced by wide strips of
bamboo. A little key pad stays hidden on the left. A five digit code grants visitors access to the
private property.
Way's Hawaiian-vibe home is nestled at the top of a steep slope. Along the aisle of the
paved hill is an odd assortment of tropical foliage and structures. On the left is a home-made
quarter pipe, followed by an animal corral, then a shed that leads to a deck with a jacuzzi. On the
top of the narrow grade is a roomy mesa that fits more than three cars or trucks and a trailer.
Behind the glass front door is a two story home, where Tavin and Rumi share a room.
When Way first bought the property and the home, he wasn’t expecting to have three children.
This property on Cole Ranch Road was a real fixer upper. Sewage issues, paving issues,
landscaping issues, neighbor issues, Way is happy to provide the laundry list. With the amount of
money and time he has invested on the long-term and short term projects, he is not willing to part
with the property, but he admits, it is getting a little cramped. Way is looking to expand the home
in the near future so that Rumi and Tavin will be able to have their own rooms.
Holland, !12
“Hoarding is my worst weakness,” he confesses. The walls are lined with boards, art, and
posters of his skateboarding career, but the upstair study reveal untouched boxes of memorabilia.
Ryden skates up to the home, a little out of breath from his steep driveway. Gatorade and
candy in hand, he takes a moment to talk to his dad. Standing a few inches taller than his six
foot, one inch father, Ryden explains to Danny that he needs new shoes, the soles of his red and
black DC sneakers are worn through from long hours of skating with friends around the
neighborhood. Rolling towards the front door he kick flips the front step, chipping the gray rock.
A chastisement escapes Danny’s mouth.
“Dude! You’re ruining the step.”
The ruddy cheeks of the bright blonde hair teen color even deeper in embarrassment. He
profusely and respectfully apologizes, making a quick escape to the inside the house.
Shortly after, a black car rolls up the driveway, jumping out of the car is Tavin, a slightly
shorter version of his brother with the same sun streaked blonde hair. He pulls out his skateboard
from the back and rolls on it a few feet to stop next to his father. Danny grabs the board from
Tavin’s hands and flips it over. The bottom is completely worn. The paint is scarred to the point
where the PlanB logo is barely recognizable among the raw wooden scratches. Danny comments
that Tavin needs a new board sooner than a later. His son shouts back an agreement as he makes
his way toward the front door, kick flipping on the same chipped step his older brother did.
“Sorry Dad!” comes the immediate reply.
“I am so grateful that my kids use the resources they have,” says Way after glaring at
Tavin’s sheepish entrance into the house. He remembers his mom’s time and sacrifice to afford a
new board or shoes during his pre-professional years.
Holland, !13
Way’s mother was not a stable figure during his transformative years. Instead, he was
raised by the skateboarding industry.
“I thought it was kids stuff,” Mary claims. A single mother, working constantly to provide
for her two sons, she was distant and unaware of Danny’s ability and talent. Pulling Danny from
school when he was in the ninth grade so he could skate full time was one the hardest decisions
of her life. It was Mike Ternasky who ultimately reassured her that Danny could really go
somewhere with skateboarding.
*
*
*
Plan B Skateboards became defunct after Ternasky’s death. During the hard year of 1994,
Danny’s brother Damon Way created a shoe company with his partner Ken Block. Damon made
sure that his new start up would sponsor his brother when Danny returned to the skate scene after
recovering from his broken neck. It became known as the global brand known as DC Shoes.
Within ten years the company’s revenue grew to 100 million dollars and was sold to the mega
company Quicksilver.
DC, and its belief in Way, is what finally allowed his childhood dreams and napkin
sketches become life sized, boundary breaking, monster ramps. Before DC was sold to
Quicksilver in 2004, Way took a visit to China, where he began to scout out locations for a new
ramp. He settled on the widest part of the Great Wall he could find. After the big sale, there was a
green light on the funding for Way’s newest $500,000 venture. “The Beijing Mega Ramp,” a
three-story tall tower that rolled into a ramp that would hopefully take Way across the 70 foot
concrete gap courtesy of the Great Wall and into another rolling quarter pipe. It became a
Chinese national event, covered by numerous television stations with the crowds pressed from all
Holland, !14
angles of the wall to watch the spectacle. The whole tower wobbled and shook, when Way and
his film crew moved around at its top, causing his heart to race. His right foot, which is his back
foot on the board and is used to steer, was swollen and numb as a rock from lidocaine, pain
relieving shots. Way had broken his ankle when he attempted to skate the ramp the day before.
The last person to have attempted to jump the Great Wall on a bicycle had died, but on
that muggy day, where dragon flies and humidity were thick, Way made five successful runs for
the Chinese crowd, who were stunned that he didn’t stop after his first success. He was bolstered
that day by a little jar of Tim O’Dea’s ashes, given to him that day by his mom. Danny’s
stepfather had died from a heart attack years earlier.
In tears, Way said to his friend holding a recording camera, “Without this man I would
have never started skateboarding.” Way is now one of only three names to be engraved in the
Great Wall of China in gold.
After that day, the door to becoming a household skater name opened for Way. It was the
opportunity to be widely recognized above Tony Hawk (who admits that Danny’s skating
abilities surpassed even his own since the mid 80’s at Del Mar Skate Ranch), but Way politely
turned from the glaring limelight that caused him to squint uneasily.
“I don’t do it for the check. It isn’t about money. It’s for my personal satisfaction and the
future of skateboarding.” Way does not divide skateboarding into categories like others do. For
him there is no “street.” “vert.” “stunt,” or “freestyle” genres of skating, there is only
skateboarding and the environments in which one can do it in. He doesn’t waste his breath like
other skaters trying to argue which genre is more popular, more lucrative, or most entertaining.
He won’t answer a question like “What type of skateboarding is your favorite?” He wants to see
Holland, !15
skaters with all styles coming together to make the sport more respected, while constantly
expanding its vocabulary and possibilities. He doesn’t pay attention to skateboarding’s popularity
or its mainstream breakthroughs. He prefers to speak to elementary schools rather than video
game creators. Way is not running towards the spotlight, rather he is being constantly hunted by
a sporadic search lamp. When he accomplishes a new world record-breaking feat, he usually
celebrates with a family and a few close friends.
The Great Wall isn’t Danny’s only architectural player. Returning his childhood dreams
to U.S. soil, Way set his sights on Las Vegas, Nevada. Shattering the bomb drop record of
twelve feet three inches. In 2008, Danny took a twenty-eight-foot leap from the iconic Fender
Stratocaster guitar that sits on top of the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino onto a ramp below.
In a humorous conversation with his fellow professional athlete and close friend, Rob
Dyrdeck, the two mused at those who were serious about going straight and fast on a skateboard.
Way predicted that it seemed really simple to achieve. He was already hitting top speeds of 55
miles per hour on the mega-ramp to accomplish horizontal height and complex tricks. So the two
began to plan a one day attempt of going very fast and very straight on a skateboard to see if it
was really “that big of a deal.” A Mojave desert airstrip became the flat, surface, where Way
could hold onto a bar attached to a high speed race car. The board constantly wobbled at speeds
of sixty miles per hour. Way hit the peak speed of 74.5 miles per hour, unintentionally breaking
the land speed record on a skateboard.
“Now when I drive in my car on the freeway, I think I went this fast on my skateboard
once,” Way shares.
*
*
*
Holland, !16
Parked closest to the house in Encinitas is a charging Tesla Model S, which Way
purchased only a few weeks ago and is still getting used to the seventeen inch touch screen and
responsive fob device.
Its not the only car Way has been experimenting with. In recent years, Way’s ambitions
have locked onto rallycross racing. A sport that involves a traditional looping race track, but its
high risks are easily spotted in the changing surfaces of mud, dirt, and gravel. He has been
training with the ProDrive coach, Peter Gwynne, in high performance, training facilities of
California and England. Without the full financial backing of DC, the expenses have been risky.
Way has been careful to budget his time and money wisely in his new venture. He and BMX
rider Dave Mirra are slowly rising from bottom of the learning curve as mid-pack amateurs to
respected professional racers in only a few short years. For the first week of May, Way was in
Hockenheim, Germany competing in his first official professional Rally X race. He is a little
embarrassed that his times did not qualify him for the finals, but he fails to mention that he was
competing against some of the fastest rally cross racers in the world.
Ken Block, a championship rallycross racer, advised Danny, “When you’re old, you need
a cage to roll.” Block is counseling his friend to find other sports to help feed Way’s competitive
and risk-taking nature. As Way’s skateboarding career is maturing, he realizes that he must begin
to invest his interest into extreme sports with less bodily risk. When retirement from skateboard
arrives, Way still wants to be able to “roll”around.
***
Last month, the youngest and only girl of the three Way children was skating the quarter
pipe in the front yard. The materials of the mini size ramp had begun to bubble with age,
Holland, !17
exposing a sharp edge. She had no knee pads on. The cut went so deep that there wasn’t much
blood.
“You could just see white, like my knee cap bone. Daddy was so scared,” the bouncy
seven-year-old exclaims pointing to the sharp edge that caused eight stitches on the top of her
knee cap.
“It was one of the scariest moment of my life.” Way admits that when it comes to his kids
getting hurt he gets weak.
Rumi has recently gotten her stitches taken out and is back in action. Over Memorial Day
weekend her and dad picked fruit from the tropical trees growing in the front yard, checked on
the different bird’s nests they have been carefully watching, and fed Ollie and Lolli Way. Ollie
and Lollie are two black pigs and both are the size of a medium dog. Lolli has a white spot on
her forehead and is known as the “sweetheart,” while Ollie is the “grumpy old man,” who tries to
bite at the antagonizing gestures of Rumi. Danny commands his beloved pets to sit, bow, and lie
down for treats, boasting of pigs’ high IQ and protective nature, affectionately rubbing their
bristly hides and scratching their chins.
“I always welcome visitors to our little farm,” Rochelle says with an eye roll, but she
hands Danny a small carton of squishy strawberries to give to the two family members as treats.
***
Directly across Ollie and Lollie’s pen is what appears to be a garden shed, but first
impressions deceive at the Way home. It is actually a private music studio with a bathroom and
small kitchen area. Way has a talent for guitar and live “organic” music. He created a band with
fellow professional skateboarder Bob Burnquist called Escalera, in the early 2000’s, but lately he
Holland, !18
has been exploring hip-hop and electronic music with artists like Mod, Shwayze, and Stevie J
stopping by the Way “farm” to jam.
*
*
*
Way has skated on the “Ultra Mega Ramp” three times now, but he has yet to make an
actual attempt to break the record. He is starting to get to the point, where he is itching to get it
done and crossed off his long list of goals.
“That ramp is so big it makes me think … dangerous,” says Way with a little chuckle.
The plan is to surpass his current Big Air record in the coming weeks, as his last stamp of
legend in the skateboard books. He thinks its time to cut his body a break.
“It sucks, because I have had these dreams since I was a kid, but the money and the
unquestioning support came so much later in my life,” Way vents.
He has definitely come a long way from the kid that stole wood from construction sites to
build his own ramps. Many people in the industry agree that Danny Way has revolutionized
skateboarding. Danny will be the first to admit that he has had a lot of trauma in his life, but
skateboarding is his therapy and process of coping.
“I have been eating, sleeping, and breathing skateboarding since I was two years old. It’s
in my DNA. I was raised by the industry. I have a marriage with my skateboard. And it’s all I
know.”
Way resuscitated the Ternasky’s company in 2005 with the help of close friend Colin
McKay. The company boasts a new “Dream Team” in the phase two of its existence with names
like Ryan Sheckler, Felipe Gustavo, Pat Duffy, and newly signed member Chris Cole. “The plan
is to retire after this last record. I want to focus my attentions on Rallycross racing and Plan B,”
Holland, !19
but Way admits it will be more difficult for him than it sounds. “You can’t just suddenly leave
something that has been apart of who you are,” he says.
*
*
*
Way mentors and supports his Plan B skateboarders in the same way Ternasky did for
him. He is at competitions giving them input, tips, and encouragement. Giving ramp-side support
to his street skate competitors, Ryan Sheckler and Jagger Eaton, at the 2015 X Games, Way also
witnessed the Skateboarding Big Air competition.
“For me it goes beyond the competing part, I had a vision on a piece of paper. I made the
prototype. I worked out the trials and errors, and I refined it to the point where it was perfect to
take skateboarding to the next level,” Way says.
Its been over ten years since ESPN first introduced the Big Air skateboarding event in the
2004 X Games with the help of Way’s experimentation with monster-sized ramps. Despite his
sideline encouragement during the event, Way admits it was hard for him to watch the action,
due to wanting to preserve himself for his future world record breaking run on the Ultra-Mega
Ramp. But being a spectator in Austin, Texas gave him a moment of revelation.
“Watching those guys to some crazy stuff on the ramp during Big Air this weekend gave
me this awesome feeling of validation. It shows me that I am not crazy or off my rocker. There
are components of my work that is contributing and impacting skateboarding. It’s not just for
soothing my own personal fascination with skateboarding.”
Holland, !20