Counter culture


Some of you regular visitors might have noticed a drop in productivity here over in the last few months. Its not been because we’ve run out of rad stuff to enthuse about. Quite the opposite, we’ve been busy beavering away on our new site and the new chapter for Wheels On Toast.

Visit from now on where you’ll find the same (but better) blog stuff as always. Theres also a brand new section profiling brands and individuals we think deserve more then a lil old blog post. Finally theres a bit more info about the folks behind WOT and the other services we do if you’re so inclined to know.

Go on then, what are you waiting for, times a wasting.

I’ve been getting a bit jaded by my usual internet haunts of late and have been very happily getting lost in the printed word via Autobiography by Morrisssy and the latest copy of Jocks and Nerds. BUT one site I can always rely on delivering the goods with fresh inspiration is

This shots from mksim’s instagram but you’ve got time drop by if you like bikes, surf, cars and general cool shit.

Merci beaucoup Maxime

This brilliant article here documents Zippos found in the fields of Vietnam. Its pretty poignant considering most of the owners of these never made it home and this is how these amazing photos have made it here. There is something very ritualistic about owning a zippo and I still remember the smell and sound of my old brass faithful that accompanied me everywhere when I was a smoker.

I’ve shamelessy re blogged this from Silodrome, which you should all visit.


I passed the newly built Brighton Level skate park on my way to work today. Seeing the space when its empty really gives you a perspective of how amazing it is. Theres some good pictures here and here but they still don’t do justice to its size and quality. Aside for the various bowls and transitions there are loads of little details I’ve never noticed when its being skated. Things like solid marble blocks just like the ones outside your favourite shopping centre, (except without the skate stoppers) and protruding bent rails for pole jams (is that the right term?). Its just incredible to take in and really puts the shitty ‘RareUnit’ steel mini ramps we had in my day in perspective, (steel surfaced ramps, c’mon what were they thinking!!!)
Next door to the skate park is a lovely looking building thats about to become the home to VeloCafe, details seem to be few at the moment but I’m under the impression that its a cycling theme cafe, although its in partnership with Small Batch Coffee so you know you’ll get a great cup of Joe. Now this is something I intend to make good use of, as I jelously watch the lil skate rats shred the new park I can tell old skate stories whist sipping my flat white.

With all this activity on the Level and Meat Liquor opening nearby I’m just so stoked that my lil corner of Brighton is getting some long overdue love.

…you can quit your job, you can leave university? You aren’t legally required to have a degree, it’s a social pressure and expectation, not the law, and no one is holding a gun to your head. You can sell your house, you can give up your apartment, you can even sell your vehicle, and your things that are mostly unnecessary. You can see the world on a minimum wage salary, despite the persisting myth, you do not need a high paying job. You can leave your friends (if they’re true friends they’ll forgive you, and you’ll still be friends) and make new ones on the road. You can leave your family. You can depart from your hometown, your country, your culture, and everything you know. You can sacrifice. You can give up your $5.00 a cup morning coffee, you can give up air conditioning, frequent consumption of new products. You can give up eating out at restaurants and prepare affordable meals at home, and eat the leftovers too, instead of throwing them away. You can give up cable TV, Internet even. This list is endless. You can sacrifice climbing up in the hierarchy of careers. You can buck tradition and others’ expectations of you. You can triumph over your fears, by conquering your mind. You can take risks. And most of all, you can travel. You just don’t want it enough. You want a degree or a well-paying job or to stay in your comfort zone more. This is fine, if it’s what your heart desires most, but please don’t envy me and tell me you can’t travel. You’re not in a famine, in a desert, in a third world country, with five malnourished children to feed. You probably live in a first world country. You have a roof over your head, and food on your plate. You probably own luxuries like a cellphone and a computer. You can afford the $3.00 a night guest houses of India, the $0.10 fresh baked breakfasts of Morocco, because if you can afford to live in a first world country, you can certainly afford to travel in third world countries, you can probably even afford to travel in a first world country. So please say to me, “I want to travel, but other things are more important to me and I’m putting them first”, not, “I’m dying to travel, but I can’t”, because I have yet to have someone say they can’t, who truly can’t. You can, however, only live once, and for me, the enrichment of the soul that comes from seeing the world is worth more than a degree that could bring me in a bigger paycheck, or material wealth, or pleasing society. Of course, you must choose for yourself, follow your heart’s truest desires, but know that you can travel, you’re only making excuses for why you can’t. And if it makes any difference, I have never met anyone who has quit their job, left school, given up their life at home, to see the world, and regretted it. None. Only people who have grown old and regretted never traveling, who have regretted focusing too much on money and superficial success, who have realized too late that there is so much more to living than this. Via

“Biarritz was at the crossroads of the world then, filled with adventurers of all kinds, college people of all kinds seeking traces of Hemingway, Beatniks looking for a novel idea, draftees on the run, dealers of Moroccan hash and, of course, surfers from everywhere in the world. I think that, according to my folks, it was the biggest mistake they have ever made… Letting me go on my own.”
I think this snippet should be enough to make you want to read this brilliant article on surfing in and around Spain, France in the late sixties. Read it here on Desillusion magazine


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