Mike Munzenrider's coverage of the event:
Back Yard Ramp Jam fucking ripped. There were mad heads, a solid mix of young and old, and there seemed to be more of a "Let's just rip," attitude than last year, for whatever reason; this was perhaps buttressed by less stops but a longer time spent at each stop. Who knows? The Swoosh rigged up Chet Childress to be there, and between his rippage and comedy, the day was fully pushed to a level of 11 shotgunned PBR's out of 10 PBR's. Simply put, physics were defied, and perhaps even defiled.
The first stop was at Mound. As always, the BMX kooks were bummed, they grabbed their free shades and lurked. Davis pretty much tre flipped the jump box to flat, while Sherman took the dicier route of double flipping into the tranny. Much shreddatory conduct was had by all, with minimal collisions; the day was young, and sober. The bus pulled away right as the cops pulled up, giddy-up!
The next stop was Trog's in North East. We're talking Hessian driveway setup with benches for the dudes that didn't want to fuck with the extremely steep but well built quarter pipes and other assorted Tom-foolery. Davis ripped a frontside nosegrind for the ages, Kirian did a perfect backside boneless on the qp that I will call "The Denominator," complete with his Vans clad foot properly arching over the coping. Chet handled a traveling blunt to back disaster, and after that I was just running around lost drinking Redbull Vodkas and generally being hyped. To top the stop off, Folley backside noseblunted The Denominator, and that was that. We ran out of beer and went to Cesar's.
At Cesar's we found a tight yet mellow four-footer with extensions. By this time in the day people were drunk enough to not care, and on top of that, people just wanted to get their burn on the ramp; a snake session complete with a minimum of three people at one time ensued. Muldoon showed people wassup, I bean-planted off the extension onto the dude that would eventually win "Most Drunk," upon tumbling to the ground I even got kicked in the face!; Tabari did a backside ollie to noseblunt which cannot be simply called a backside noseblunt because of it's inherent properness. Much more went down, somewhere in there Nike brought more beer, we drank it, and we piled into the bus to go to Oakdale.
We got some fast food and nothing much happened and then we headed to the Oakdale park. The locals were bummed, and the kid wearing purple pants would be shit-talked the entire ride home by Chet. We seshed until dark and then the cops showed up, meaning we would leave.
The bus got to Dusty's well after dark, and after some Pizza Luce, I partied way late until the cops showed up and inquired about the party's sponsorship; I slept at A=Plus's after a fast and furious ride there from Vang. I awoke to find my body incapable of moving without mad pain. I deserved it.
Sorry for lack of photos, I'm a horrible blog dork on that front and mainly spent my time shredding, running into people, running around manically talking to people, and that's it, it was really a very awesome fifth anniversary of one of the best and most grass roots events that we do around here. If you haven't told Luke thanks yet, do so. See you fools next year.