Like a typical teenager, before we had cars, we had skateboards. Almost every weekend, friends would meet up, and we would disappear in the paved network of the city. Now the days are filled shooting photos, but we've realized there's not much difference in what we did then and now.
Our time spent recently in and around Chicago with Steve Ngan and his '93 RX-7 Turbo makes this point well. The morning starts with a phone call from Steve, and 30 minutes later he arrives at my hotel where I toss my stuff in the rear compartment of his beautiful Mazda. We're off to meet up with more friends who will join us that day. We were on our way to shoot a car, but this could also be a description of countless high school Saturdays spent on a skateboard.
The group has gathered, and we talk about the spots to hit. If we had our boards with us, we would consider each location's ledges, staircases, handrails, and the presence of security guards. In shooting photos, however, our primary concerns are the direction of light, background clutter, a clear horizon to reflect in the car's paint, and the presence of security guards. Ah, they are the bane of photographers and skateboarders alike. Nevertheless, experience and guerrilla tactics usually end the day with a bag full of new tricks and exposed film.
First on our itinerary is a modern looking office building we spotted just off the freeway. Its steel-and-glass design suits the RX-7 well while the clear blue sky reflected off the gleaming structure nicely complements the car's glossy skin. Spots like this couldn't be considered most of the week, but this is one of the reasons we decided to shoot on a Sunday. The parking lot was empty, save for a security guard dozing in his patrol car. We decided to try anyway. Hey, we're not hurting anyone or damaging anything, so maybe he'd be cool about it. Or maybe not. Just as we find the right camera angle, dude pulls up to give us the boot. Not even the smooth curves of the Mazdaspeed aero kit can sway a man so bent on doing his job!
Frustrated. Driving again. A discussion begins about the next spot. Downtown Chicago is decided upon, and as we traverse some stretches of freeway along the way, Steve shows what fun can be had in a vehicle like his. The quick blasts around slower traffic can't be good for our standing with the local po-po, but I don't think they like us photographer/skateboarder/boosthead types anyway.
Steve apologizes that the acceleration is merely blinding, rather than coma-inducing, explaining that he's running low boost at the moment. This visit from a Super Street photographer popped up quite abruptly, and right in the middle of his rotory motor port job. As my plane was landing, Steve was plugging his motor back into the FD chassis, the remainder of the engine work having to wait until next week. It's a pain, but it's a common task for Steve, who works on rotaries all day long at A-Spec Tuning.
We work our way into the city, weaving through the streets, hunting for the perfect spot. The elevated trains make a cool industrial backdrop, but block out too much light. Considering security guards, there's really no point in trying the courtyards of any of the usual urban monoliths. Finally we head to the waterfront and are rewarded with open skies and beautiful light. I start snapping away, looking over my shoulder suspiciously at every car that passes, nervous about losing a great location to another rent-a-cop abusing his insect-sized authority.
We get brave and push the car onto a grassy area nearer to the water. Another roll is clicked off, and we brazenly maneuver the car onto a cement precipice hanging over the blue ice. We see the harbor police station across the waterway, certain that we'll have only a few more minutes to work with. A jeep pulls up, yellow sirens on the roof, a uniformed man inside. As we walk over to beg for understanding, he replies apologetically, "Oh, no, I'm just checking things out. You guys keep doing what you're doing."