a fresh generation of skaters has set up shop in pacific grove.

Photo Captions By: Kate Folsom Photos: Randy Tunnell

Photo:Our cast of characters; Argus Keppel: Happy-go-lucky and polite, this soft-spoken 16 year old manages to be skater casual while still shining with youthful exuberance. Jeremiah Smith: One of the best riders at 68 Skate. Sponsorships give him his shoes, board, wheels and other skating essentials. Confidant, but not cocky. Derek Browy (aka snakebite): the little brother of the group who knows his place. "He''s a pile of shit, really, he''s the funniest guy ever," says Sharif Munir. Sharif Munir: "I''m a great person. There''s nothing wrong with me at all." Peter Gunn: Likes to have a good time, and hates it when there are more cameras than skateboarders at any given skating event.

While

the tick tick tick of a skateboard''s wheels coming down the pavement might make an elderly resident nervous, these guys aren''t buying into the image. These guys say the idea that a skateboarder is dangerous to others is played.

It''s 10:05 on an especially foggy Pacific Grove morning, and Jerimiah Smith is sitting on the curb outside of 68 Skate, his skateboard beside him, waiting for his boss to open the shop. Smith''s hunched over his Gameboy, playing Super Mario and wasting time. The sound of a truck rumbles into the empty parking lot, and Smith looks up as his boss, store owner Sharif Munir, arrives.

Munir''s groggy and untalkative, still waking up, and he seems glad to let Smith play tour guide around the small shop. Large graffiti murals wind around the walls, vintage boards are mounted for posterity, there are new boards of all kinds, skate clothing and shoes, and of course helmets.

Then there''s the bulletin board plastered with tickets and citations. Smith''s pink warning for violating the helmet law is mounted next to a fellow skater''s $150 fine.

"When I got a ticket it was only $100," Smith muses. "He probably gave the officer some lip."

There''s a tongue-in-cheek attitude vibrating off the shop''s walls, as if to say, we are aware of society''s views of us, and we are going to play with it.

"We''re tossing around the idea of giving everyone who gets a ticket 10 percent off in the shop," Munir offers.

Smith explains that the town isn''t too friendly to skaters.

"They''re hard on skateboarding here," he says. "You get a ticket if you ride down the street."

While the tick tick tick of a skateboard''s wheels coming down the pavement might make an elderly resident nervous, the guys aren''t buying into the image. Smith says the idea that a skateboarder is dangerous to others is played.

"Some people underestimate how good we are," he says. "We have as much control as someone on a bicycle."

"If not more," Munir adds. "It''s lighter and you can just kick it away if you''re losing control."

It''s time to head over to El Estero Skate Park in Monterey for some live action, a place, ironically, that is the last choice for these guys to hang out. Munir prefers to skate at night, in parking lots--some of which he says are friendly to skaters.

Even to a complete novice, the park, lacking the half-pipes and the slopes that skaters love to work, looks, well, kind of boring.

"It''s weak," Munir says, leaning into the chain link fence as he watches Smith warm up. "It doesn''t flow and you can''t have a lot of speed."

Still, it''s a handy place to practice and attempt to teach a virgin skateboarder the names of some tricks. The lake also comes in handy for letting off steam when tricks go awry.

"So many boards end up in the water," Munir says. "People get angry and toss everything in."

Munir narrates as 17-year-old Smith, a six-year rider, performs. Smith''s decked out in sponsored gear--a black BANE T-shirt, Globe shoes, and boards from 68 Skate.

"He''s one of the better skaters," Munir says. "We''re working on a video with a bunch of local guys--going up to San Francisco, down to L.A., trying to get out of here."

Smith''s lanky body is shooting all over the park.

"See," Munir gestures as Smith spins the board in the air under his feet. "That''s a kick flip."

Smith flies up over a railing.

"And that''s a feeble grind on a rail," Munir explains.

I forget even trying to sound cool. I can hardly make out what Munir''s saying.

"Excuse me, did you mean that as a criticism?" I ask.

Munir looks at me and holds back a laugh.

"No, that''s what the trick is called," he says patiently. "His back truck is on the rail--if he did it facing the other way it would be another trick."

I dutifully jot down notes, hardly able to discern a "rock-and-roll" from a "manual" or differentiate an ollie from a nollie.

"That''s a nice clean-looking ollie," Munir says. "It''s when you''re going straight and pop the board into the air. A nollie is having the front of the board to ollie."

Or at least that''s what I think he said. I give up after figuring out a 50-50 grind: "The front and back trucks are scraping."

Smith comes over to let me try his board. As I shakily balance, reaching out for Smith''s shoulder, he guides me gently around the park. Another rider wipes out on his board, skidding across the smooth cement.

"That''s a battle roll," Smith says. "You learn how to fall without hurting yourself too much."

I kick myself sloppily over to a stop where Munir is watching.

"That''s your first time?" he asks. "That''s good--you didn''t eat shit."

Munir sees the sport as progressing in public acceptance--and for women as well.

"We just started a nine-year-old girl on a skateboard," he says. "Her older brother was at the shop and she didn''t want to wait in the car."

And even though some skate rats just want to look the part, the guys scoff at the idea of skating simply to be anti-establishment.

"No one skates to rebel," Smith says.

"Some people have the wrong idea," Munir says. "But skating builds a camaraderie between people."