Inside The Skate Ranch, Blackhawk near Hall Rd.

Pictures of the older skate rink on Almeda near the old post office with the wooden floor are still on my list of "must-finds" but thanks to Michelle Roeder, I can cross off the more popular Skate Ranch, with its newfangled not-wooden rink!(And now that I think about it, what was that floor made of? just concrete? It was so much quieter than the Almeda wood floor!)

check out all the elementary school shirts in one photo!

the concession stand is just visible at the back -- I'd love to see those prices!

In the DJ booth!

I'd forgotten about the blue carpet on the walls and that corner where, if you were coordinated enough, you could hop up and sit on people skated by, at least until the skate workers yelled at you to get down.

speaking of carpet . . . 

one of the disco balls visible in this one, as well as a pretty confusing sign . . .  "Announcing Buddy Nite Discontinued" . . . what?

The Skate Ranch was often a kid's first independent outing -- Mom and Dad would drop you and your friends off and tell you when to be in the front area watching for them to return. (If you didn't, you'd spot your Mom coming inside to find you, usually with her arms crossed, ready to kill you for losing track of time.) 

Once inside, you'd get up to the carpeted counter to ask for your skate size, and they were usually plopped in front of your face by a teenager who never even looked at you. Remember the cubbies you'd stow your shoes and other stuff in? No locks or security whatsoever, and yet rarely did anything go missing. You'd plop on a bench and lace up the brown skates, cursing if you ended up with ones with really frayed laces. And then, you'd have to scan the crowd already on the rink to see who you knew. You'd lean on the wall watching the skaters, all in a line. Just like this, at .16 seconds in:

It was the thrill of being asked to hold hands during the couples' skate; the inevitable limbo and hokey pokey games and age races that brought out the fiercely competitive in all of us; the feel of the wind through your hair as you skated to a favorite song; avoiding (usually, anyway) spectacular wipe-outs around other fallen skaters; racing off the rink, grabbing on to the sides, and feeling the carpet slow your wheels down so the world felt like it was suddenly spinning in slow motion. And that weird feeling, after you got your skates off, that you were somehow walking and still skating at the same time. 

Good memories.

I have to imagine that so many people had birthdays at the skating rinks, there are lots of photos hiding out in old albums waiting to be found (and . . .  maybe . . . shared? please?)