47 and I still try to get out to a skatepark at least twice a week.

No idea how long I’m going to be able to do it, but I’m going to make every session count.

Ok, true, but they don’t need to know that.

Cross through customs coming back from Mexico exhausted at early o’clock, my brother looks over at me all serious as says

“Hey, quick, look shify!”

I hardly have enough to to process what he said before I’m standing in front of a border patrol agent think “How the hell am I supposed to not look shifty, great, I’m sure now I do”.

Every single time I go through a security check point now I hear my brothers voice in my head and I just know I look guilty of something.