Remember how radical it was when you got your first dirt bike in the 80s? Mine had a red frame, hand brakes, and yellow pads that told the world it was a Red Line BMX. I wish I could say that I was sad to retire the banana seat bike I’d loved since Christmas in 1978, but I was 9, and felt like I’d outgrown it and its various . . . accoutrements.
I don’t know if dirt bikes were as common in the 70s and 80s as they were when Ryan and Nolan were kids, but I was really excited when I finally got mine. I washed it, kept it in the garage, and left the kick stand on it, even though the big kids in my neighborhood had all taken their kick stands off, in order to reduce the weight and make them more suitable for racing. Of course, none of us was strong or powerful enough to know that the elimination of a few ounces of kickstand wouldn’t make any appreciable difference, but these decisions were made at an age where we were certain that new shoes made us run faster.
I rode that bike everywhere, and I feel a little sad right now because I can’t remember what happened to it.
When Nolan was 6, we got him a bike for his birthday. I think we picked it up at Toys R Us or Target, where it was one of many little kid-sized dirt bikes on display. I don’t recall seeing any banana seat numbers with streamers coming off the handlebars or giant flags reaching up to the sky from the back of the seat, but it stood out from the pack, stylishly-adorned with cool blue pads on its “chromette” frame, emblazoned with the word “Chaos,” surrounded by some lightning bolts.
When it was revealed to him, Nolan celebrated in that joyous way that’s only possible when you’re 6. Some of my fellow parents out there may have experienced a similar moment, when it’s hard to tell whether parent or child is happier.
He ran over to us, thanked us, gave us hugs, and said to Anne, “But what’s chows?” It rhymed with house.
“Chows?” She said.
“Chows.” He pointed to a pad on his bike. “My bike says ‘chows.'”
“Oh, that’s Chaos,” Anne said, with a grin.
“Oh. That’s weird.” He said. Then: “Chaos!” He hopped on his new bike and sped down the street as fast as his chunky little legs would carry him.
That was about 11 years ago. Ever since then, our family has said chows when we mean chaos, and we’ve said it a lot lately, as in “we are seriously living in a chows house,” while the construction we’ve wanted to do for longer than we’ve been saying chows is completed.
This weekend, Anne and I cleaned out our garage, so we can transfer some of the chows from the house – some furniture and several boxes of my books, mostly – out there. (Like most Angelenos, our garage isn’t a car hold, it’s a storage facility. When I meet people in my neighborhood who park their cars in their garage, I am instantly suspicious of them.)
We’ve done this about once a year since we moved here ten years ago this week, and every year I get rid of more and more stuff that just isn’t as important to me as it once was. It’s a freeing and affirming feeling to look at some old T-shirt or random thing that defined me when I was 22, and know that . . . well, I just don’t need it around anymore. I’ve moved on, embraced the present, grown and changed.
This time around, I culled lots of CDs and DVDs, and I took two big boxes of video tapes to Goodwill because we don’t even own a VCR anymore. While I piled them into the car, I told Anne, “We’re probably the last generation to do this. Our kids don’t have the physical media for music and movies the same way we did. That’s weird.”
She didn’t need to point out that normal people don’t accumulate books, movies, and music like I do; evidence of that teetered around us in various stacks.
While I sorted some old techno CDs (Serious Beats Volume 3, anyone? Sasha and John Digweed at Renaissance?) she zeroed in on a box that my mom had given me a few years ago.
“What’s in here?” She said.
“Oh, that’s . . . um . . . nothing.” I said.
Husbands: the very best way to convince your wives that they need to stop what they’re doing and immediately open the box and explore its contents is to answer, “Oh, that’s . . . um . . . nothing.” When they ask you what is inside.
A moment later, she was surrounded by a bunch of old I’m a Teenage Heartthrob posters and clippings from teen magazines, where my awkward teenage dorkiness is on full display for anyone who had a subscription to Big Bopper. Including this:
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I was really awkward in the 80s. 80s fashion is nothing to be proud of, but at least most of you who also survived it can keep that between you and your family. My awkward teenage . . . everything . . . was shared with everyone. Loudly. Incessantly. Most of you have plausible deniability with your kids, but I am forced to acknowledge that, yes, I wore as many Swatches as I could fit onto both of my wrists. And my ankle. And, yes, I owned and proudly wore several Bill Cosby sweaters. And yes, I frequently wore white leather shoes with no socks, because some salesgirl told me that looked “hot” with my baggy acid-washed Z Cavaricci jeans. And no, I can’t deny that I thought Gotcha and Genera Hypercolor T-shirts and Oakley Blades were totally awesome, especially when worn together with bright green neoprene Body Glove shorts.
I really wanted to throw that box of stuff away, for a lot of reasons that I can’t seem to articulate in a way that doesn’t make me feel like a complete douche, but Anne talked me out of it.
Maybe I’ll scan some of it and share it, as a public service intervention for the damn kids today who romanticize 80s fashion.
It was chows back then, guys. Pure and simple: it was chows.
Did you know when I was 8, you were my boyfriend? Oh yeah. It was quite serious too, we were on well on the way to marriage. There would be dalliances with a Haim and a Phoenix, but you were the first, and the main attraction. Until. That. Day. I’m glad you posted about this, Wil, because it was a combination of 80’s fashion and a Bop/Big Bopper pinup that led to the tragic demise of our relationship.
The photo in question is you in a pose of ultimate coolness — spiked hair, multiple Swatches (which I found both badass and stylish, by the way, you should have no regrets there), a turquoise sweatshirt, and the most exquisite ripped up jeans, with things scrawled all over them, in an assortment of coloured markers. While staring longingly up at you one day (as I often did), I found myself closely examining the graffiti on the pants of my supercool badass boyfriend. And then… I saw it. Near what one might call the “crotchal region”, was a black marker scrawl of something that looked suspiciously like “I heart Laura”. WHO IS LAURA, WIL?! I AM NOT LAURA. I AM BECKY. How could you so blatantly flaunt such betrayal? Angry and heartbroken, the poster came immediately down, and we were over. O-v-e-r. My first love, gone to some witch named Laura. “8 Year Old, Crushed by Crusher.” *Sigh*
Fortunately, the New Kids on the Block came along shortly after that, whisking me away on a whirlwind romance that would last for years. But Wil, while I have forgiven you, there is a part of me that will never forget. 🙂
It was Guess jeans for me. That and my ever present Star Wars Trapper Keeper. I’m an avowed nerd! What do you expect?
There are times when my wife (born after 1980) doesn’t remember things that happened in that fateful decade, and I have to remind her that yes, we were out of our minds, and no we didn’t know that acid wash wasn’t fashion-forward.
OMG I am peeing myself that is so funny, the whole 80’s decade just flashed before my eyes. So, SO funny!
Sorry Wil, I hate to say this but….you look like an awkward lesbian.
It takes a big man to post this, Sir! I salute you. This grog is in your honor.
Oh man, I can’t remember the last time I thought of hypercolor clothes…
Hypercolor, morey boogie, BUM equipment, hobie, denim jackets, spandex, jeans two sizes too small, stussy, fluorescent colored clothing….I had a ducktailed mullet (I couldn’t help that it curled at the end). Those were terrificly awkward days, weren’t they?
That’s actually pretty funny Wil because two weeks ago I got new floors in my house and decided to use it as an opportunity to clean out lots of junk, too. Along the way I found my big scrapbook filled with probably every pinup and article Tiger Beat and Bop and the Big Bopper probably ever did of you from about 87 to 91 or so. I was mortified to find I still had it. I looked through it, laughed and thought about throwing it away, but instead I put it in a box that now sits… in my garage. 🙂
OMG, the Swatch comment brought back memories. Cute, puppy dog memories of you at one of your first cons, up on stage with, I think Guy Vardaman and an unnamed lieutenant, and you jumped into the audience because some guy had a finger watch you absolutely had to see. You were cute.
It never fails to amaze me how such a simple story as spring (fall?) cleaning turns into an epic trip down memory lane with the grace of your literary skills.
Magical teleportation to a time when my barn-red BMX with black foam bar guards was the envy of the neighborhood and I was briefly able to transcend mortal boundaries by flying over ramps and jumps. It thrills me to know that my beloved chariot lives on in the service of those I consider as nephews (despite lack of blood relation).
I tip my sky-blue trucker cap to you sir.
Ok..Imagine if you will black biker shorts with a neon green stripe down the side, a big shirt with other BRIGHT neon colors all over it. Thats not all..either LA gear tennis shoes or jelly shoes (as neon as possible) depending on what had to be done that day. I’m still not done..a plastic ring that scrunched up the edge of the shirt (yeah, I know you remember those). And.. to top it all off, Neon ponytail holders which I had in my pigtails. I am now 31, and I miss those times, except you could’nt pay me to wear bike short or jelly shoes ever agian. I never thoght you as being geeky then, I found you quite attractive, still do. You have to remember that we all looked that way, so don’t feel so bad, we will eventually look back at what we have on today and wonder what in the world was I thinking.
At least you didn’t decorate your room with those magazines. Oy.
Wil, if a-line flares and bell bottom jeans can come back from the 10th circle of 70’s fashion hell, then just wait. The 80’s fashion styles will be cool again, one day.
Wil, I know what you mean about the bike. For years after I got my first BMX bike for christmas, my father loved telling the story of how he heard my brother and I screaming under the christmas tree “Look at the f***ing bike!”
He was tolerant of the swearing. He was just so pleased to have picked the perfect gift.
I was born in the ’80s rather than growing up in them. I think I got off lightly – then I remember the audacities of the 90’s and think again. Love the blog Wil, & love all your books!
The kids I work with are wearing leg warmers again. EEEeeeeeeeGADS! Luckily I saw Rock and Roll High School, which of course changed my life and shaped my musical taste in such a way that it is still present in many ways today. I was the first kid at my school to wear converse high-tops and pistol legged blue jeans and of course I was made fun of. Sadly I think I was the only kid to do so during my entire high school incarceration to do so, which only widened the gap of my… shall we say… oddness as compared to the rest of the Molly Hatchet listening kids. Being from the deep south, (insert dueling banjo’s here) I was doomed to be the different kid. Plus, I took classical piano and opera and was constantly made fun of for even that. After I got into the Ramones (and now, notice how many 18 – 30 year olds wear those shirts) I discovered The Dead Kennedys and then The Sex Pistols, The Clash and anything anti “The Man.” I can remember vividly taking every polo shirt (Izod and Ralph Lauren both) my mother bought me and promptly ripping out the sleeves and inserting safety pins and cutting holes in various places. Good times. Yes, we all have those fashion moments we are not only ashamed of, but literally make our asses draw up as we view them. In fact, I have more photos that make my ass hurt than make me proud, but oh well… it’s all part of the journey. With all of this blubber stated, if my son ripped out his sleeves I would be beside myself. He’s only four; however, he is my son and that can only mean one thing, which is I’m in for one hell of a ride. Then again my luck he’ll be into some type of gangster rap that makes more than my ass hurt.
Speaking of techno… does anyone remember Sheep On Drugs and the song Baby Jesus Rides a Motorbike or that song “The Spice Must Flow” by Eon?
I haven’t experienced the first bike with my son, but have experienced the first battery powered Lightening McQueen big red car. I’m excited for the bike phase, but for now am being a doting mom on his magnificent driving abilities. Being a single older mom, when the BMX days come I’ll probably have to either take some sort of nerve pill or learn to concentrate on my mantra and meditate myself out of nervous breakdown. Thanks Wil for putting the images of my four year old turning six and “going faster” because he removed his kick stand powering down our big hill into my already paranoid head. *smile*
In closing, we have one of those brick houses with a double garage, which is full of everything from my dad’s pool table (a real one, that must weigh several TONS) to old furniture, more books than I can remember and the likes. I also took a car load of stuuuuuuf to Goodwill and although for a few days it looked like I made a dent, now it seems something else from my life has now taken its rightful place in the garage.
You always make my day. Sorry I took up so much of your space. Take it as a compliment that you’ve spawned so many nostalgic thoughts of those horrifically beautiful 1980’s.
I remember when the only jeans that were cool (for girls) were acid-wash jeans with “skinny” ankles. They even started building zippers into the bottoms of jeans just so you could get them on and have the skinniest durn ankles evar!
PS – I tagged you in my most recent blog post to join Blog Action Day next Wednesday. This year bloggers from all over will be posting about the topic of poverty, and I think you should too!
is that a swatch ? Hey wil, I need some secret Vegas locations to take a bachelorette party. I’ve got a list, like say “The Beach” etc, but any hidden places you can think of in your travails there ?
Need to remember not only the cool thing to have the “in” stuff but trying to pass cheaper knock-offs as the real thing is what sticks out in my memory. This applied specifically to Bart Simpson items as wells as Swatch.
There was an issue of Seventeen where you were leaning your head on your hand, which was connected to a Swatch-lined arm. I decided that was the coolest look ever. Ahh… the 80s.
Take away two of those Batman logos and you are a dead ringer for any random UK pop star who was onstage at Wembley during Live Aid….
@gmknobl: I *had* Flock of Seagulls hair. Seriously. It was awesome!
Wil, I feel your pain as a fellow 80s victim. Proof: http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4369/1253/1600/score.jpg
I took one look at that picture and I so wanted to print it and get it signed by you.
Then I started looking for Swatches.
You are a veritable mosaic of the eighties in this picture! I love the watch looped through the button hole… and i had a similar collection of commemorative movie pins.
I have a pink Generra Hypercolor shirt that I still own and wear as my ‘pajamas’ shirt. It hasn’t changed color in a looooooooooong time, but I can’t bring myself to throw it out!
It’s dorky all right, but a cute kind of dorky, if that’s any consolation. I must admit I squee-ed out loud when I saw this picture. 🙂
Hehheh, being the same age as you I have nothing to say. I do however seem to like shaking my head and sighing a lot though. :o)
@SiftinJeff That’s an awesome picture. Now I need to go dig out my horrific 80s pictures. 🙂
I don’t think the 80s were good to anyone, especially if you were of the nerdy persuasion. It sucked rocks for me.
Egad. I must have looked like the female, German version of you back then, Wil. I just had a serious flashback moment here!
(Although, oi! I am WEARING a Swatch RIGHT NOW. Okay, so it’s the grown-up, cool steel version with understated dark blue face, but still-it’s a Swatch. Alright, so it’s actually a James Bond memorial Swatch for “From Russia with Love”, and it sports a red star on the blue. But no one actually knows that. Did I just say that loud?)
And I don’t know why, but I also have a laaaarge box with all 80s memories packed away. Including a lovely Body Glove t-shirt, and several Oppalokka, OP, and Maui & Sons ones. That was during my “I can’t surf but I want to look cool” phase. Did the whole Batman thing, too. Had a BMX bike that I kept fiddling with (dad’s a mechanic with a huge workshop, that sure helped). Wore Converse Chucks (Um, I actually still wear them..) and ugly jeans…and those jeans jackets that had fancy lining in a different pattern. And fake baseball jackets. And we enjoyed watching that great new show, TNG. Goodness, we were dorky back then… 😉 Thanks for that trip down memory lane!
I used to be a manager at a Goodwill in Arizona.
I assure you, that if you were to drop off your box we would have thought it was a 20 something girl throwing away her shrine. I then would have bought it all, and commented to you about it.
The swatches do not make one cool, one makes the swatches cool.
I had a Hypercolor shirt (purple to pink). Just picture it – young girl with new boobs in a shirt that changes color where warm. Whose idea was that anyway?! At least I didn’t have the pants! Did you hear about what happened in Japan when they made Hypercolor underwear?!?! Check it out here – http://www.drivl.com/posts/view/471
And then there was the Flashdance outfit – tank top with a neckless sweatshit hanging off the shoulder. Boy, now THAT was fashion! 😉
Anyway, thanks for the post, Wil. It took me back to the Scary-Ole-Days!
At least your parents didn’t inflict a mullet on you. (I’ve tried to hide or destroy as many of those pics as possible. Ugh.)
love the pic, you need to post more 😀
i remember at one point you were doing some kind of meet-and-greet at the local tractor show (or some such nonsense) and were billed as “teenage heart-throb wil wheaton!” that phrase has stuck with my husband and i for 15 years, and still makes us giggle.
I had an opportunity to go to the museum I emailed about a couple weeks ago. I took pictures of the “Batcave” if you’d like to see them. I understand how you might be wary of email attachments though so is there another way you would suggest if you are interested? I suppose I could post them on flicker or something like that.
Lol! I had that photo! And I still have my autographed photo from Wil Power. Thanks for time warp. It was a nice trip 🙂
um, I think I had that picture of you on my bedroom wall when I was 11 or so. Sadly my crush on you died when I discovered the New Kids on the Block…now that’s way more embarassing than acid wash and swatches (which I had 5 of) 🙂
My chows included: pink stone-washed denim jacket with matching pants; overalls in a pink brick pattern with blue graffiti; and corduroys in w-i-d-e and magenta.
Oh, and I sported a boy’s haircut with a rat-tail down my back.
And I’m a girl.
Do I win something? ;o)
P.S. Wil, I’ll always adore you in any outfit, but especially in a Batman hat.
Oh man… you look so awesome though! I’m glad Anne talked you out of it; everyone needs some remnants of the past if only to remind them of all the things they’re not anymore.
Scan in some more, I for one would love to see them, heartthrob! ;p
Uh, hello? Sasha and John Digweed at Renaissance is a classic!