Sunday saw a roadtrip up to Worcester and a secret wooden mini for me, The Son of the Malago and The Son of The Son of the Malago. It were rad. We hooked up with Hoodie, had a schralp in the sweltering heat, ripped up a nipple then retired to this wooden wonder.
Sunny sunday afternoons are meant to spent on ramps like this.
Sunny sunday afternoons are meant to spent on ramps like this.
Dad Slasher Extrodinaire. Reg slayed it / FS HAIR by the Gnarly Eff / Not a tailblock but a tailskid, all the way across the coping. Sick.
1 comment:
c'mon everyone knows that sunny sunday afternoons are for chores and B&Q
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