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A man carrying the holy grail of all tacos was walking along a sidewalk minding his own business, thinking to himself how delicious the tacos smelled. He was so stoked to get home and devour the mouthwatering tacos only to forget to look up and watch where he was walking. Looking down upon the beautiful works of art in his hands, he suddenly smacked dab right into a pole smashing hard against the pole and tossing his beautiful and beloved tacos into the heavens above, as he stumbled to regain his composure, he noticed out of the corner of his eye his beloved tacos flying through the air and he immediately snapped himself back into reality. Disgusted at himself for being so careless the man began to yell aloud at himself as he sat there gazing to the left of himself watching in torment as the tacos came crashing down hard into the street that lay adjacent to the sidewalk, just as the tacos hit the hot black pavement and exploded into a taco'y mess, a motorist in a red sports car came zooming by at a high rate of speed smooshing the taco bits deeper into the crevices of the cement flinging taco particles up into the atmosphere around him. The once mouthwatering and delicious tacos now lay sprawled out all over the street. A taco crime scene, tacos everywhere flattened into a gruesome mess. A figment instilled in that poor man's memory left there to haunt him forever. I don't know what this has to do with death but at the very exact moment that guy smacked dab into a pole somebody somewhere in this world died and we all know death sucks. True Story True Facts.
Make a Wheel called the legacy wheel. A legacy was born themed wheel
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There once was a skater named Rick. A legend in his own mind. Known in his crew for landing impossible tricks, dodging parking lot security like a ninja, and somehow always keeping his white shoes spotless. The man was on fire. But legends don’t last forever.
One fateful afternoon, Rick rolled up to his usual spot—a crusty old ledge behind an abandoned thrift store—and announced to the world (aka his two friends and a pigeon), “Today, I become immortal.”
He was trying a trick so gnarly it didn’t even have a name. Some said it was a heelflip. Others swore it was a failed ollie with jazz hands. But whatever it was, it had consequences.
On attempt number thirty-seven, it happened. Rick popped, flicked, flew—then slammed hard. Like, crack-your-board-and-see-the-light hard. Turns out, one of Rick’s wheels exploded mid-air—cheap, brittle garbage he picked up on clearance. That tiny failure sealed his fate. He came down wrong, fast, and fierce.
He laid there, wheels spinning beside him, broken deck on his chest like a tombstone. His friends stood in silence. The pigeon flew away. The sky darkened for dramatic effect. In that moment, as the wind slowed and the world held its breath, Rick’s final words left his lips: “Death sucks.” And just like that, he was gone. The board was broken. The session was over.
But from the ruins rose a new purpose—a brand born to honor every skater who gave it everything, their all, and to the ones who didn’t get the chance to.
Death Sucks Skateboard Wheels was forged not in victory—but in the wreckage. A tribute to the wipeouts, the falls, and the ones who rolled so hard, they became legend.
Because in skateboarding, like in life, you either ride or get rolled on or get remembered for how hard you went.
Death sucks.
But legacy?
Legacy rolls forever.
RIP Rick. True story. True facts