I don’t remember the exact first moment I realized who DMC was, as a young rider, he dominated the publications, and was one of the number riders, as well as the overall number one (First in Ramp and Flatland).
As My life was more and more submerged into the world of BMX, the three letters, DMC became more and more prominent, and his Icon status was 100 percent obvious, especially during the soul rider revolution of the early 90’s contest scene.
My friends and I travelled the circuit, as our budget would allow, going to BS comps, run by Mat Hoffman and Steve Swope, we went to weird towns like Shimersville Pa, Hoffman estates Illinois, Some suburb of Kansas city,Oklahoma City…
Skateparks Back then were few and far between, and kind of seemed like enchanted warehouses, you had to had to seek out like lost treasures. No websites for directions, or maps, and rarely a phone number you could call… Often, you would aim for the town it was in, and if you were lucky, some clerk at 7-11 would know someone who sold weed in the parking lot, and could give you half assed directions…
By the MId 90’s we had been to enough comps, we had friends from towns scattered about the country side, and we’d all catch up and bullshit in the parking lots of these events. 5- 6 dudes, all packed into a car, bikes stacked on the back, and each of us trying to renegade runs during the regimented practice sessions. They were usually set up, by classes, beginner, expert, pro, to give everyone a fair shot at warming up on the ramps. DMC was usually in every session, squeeking his brakes, snaking 15 year old kids in full face helmets, singing along to Rick Thorn’s mix tapes on the Pa, and or telling fucked up stories to the star dazzled kids oogling him on the deck of the ramp.
The moment that stands out about D, for me, in my brain, is in 1995, at the BS comp in Daytona Beach Florida at Stone edge, I don’t remember the exact details, Colin Winkleman, Stew Johnson, Mike Tag, Magilla, and a bunch of us were there, as were all the big guns, and every rambling bmx rat that could afford to pay the $1.12 a gallon of gas, and drive their parents Caravan to get there…Paul Reubens was not there unfortunately. As I recall it, we were all line up on the deck of the nine bowl, aimed at a drop in, for a make shift box jump, built just for the comp, and sessioning white zombies. At one point, a voice calls out, ” Crandall, you gonna go or what?” I recognized the voice, but not as one of my buddies, and I look back at DMC getting ready to snake me. Holy SHit DMC knew my name…. I probably did a huge dead sailor!
That was 15 years ago, and DMC was already a legend, a veteran pro, and a super friendly wise crackin bad ass! Dennis is now in approaching his mid 40s, and still shredding, and still an icon in my eyes. Stoked! This current photo of Dennis was shot over the summer at the clamshell at his local park, riding an FBM. Steve Hebert Shot this pic, and this is all Dennis had to say about it- “Antonio’s shut down. Word must have gotten out that they shit in they cheese.”
Originally Posted by steve crandall