Tony Hawk's Quotes

Big decisions in my life have always come easy and are made without hesitation. It is easier for me to make a life-changing decision than to decide what to get for dessert.

One guy, seeing that I was hungry, insisted on buying me a huge lunch and when I thanked him for his kindness, he simply said, 'Pass it on.' I liked this selfless concept - repay me by rewarding someone else entirely with a generous dollop of goodwill.

I was beginning to understand how the Irish mentality worked. The more foolish, illogical or surreal one's actions were perceived t be (and mine surely fell into one of these categories), the wider the arms of hospitality were opened in salutation.

Running twenty-six miles is no fun. I think it was possibly an American who came up with the adage 'if it ain't hurting, it ain't working'. It would be nice to think that shortly after he uttered those words someone smacked him in the mouth by way of demonstrating how well it was working for him.

There are two words I don't want to find myself uttering as an old man, and they are "If Only.

For me, once I've made a cup of tea I belong somehow. It's like I'm marking out my territory, and anyone attempting to come and make a cup of tea on my patch will be dealt with most severely, more likely than not with a counter attack into their territory and the seizure of their milk cartons and shortbread biscuits.

Four bricks could be affixed under a skateboard and used as really inefficient wheels. Ha! Let’s see Tony Hawk do tricks on that board. Actually, he probably could.


I’d like to thank Tony Hawk,’ he said, ‘and all the dead who made this moment possible.

One of the more tiring aspects of hitchhiking is a need to be sociable and make conversation with whoever is driving you. It would be considered poor form to accept a ride, hop into the passenger seat and then simply to crash out until you reached your destination. How I longed to do just that, but instead I chatted merrily away, energy ebbing from me with each sentence, until Chris dropped me at the address of the lady who had offered me free B&B. One of the more tiring aspect of accepting an offer of free accommodation is a need to be sociable and make conversation with whoever had offered it to you. It would be considered poor form to turn up, dumb your bags, crawl into your bedroom and order an early morning alarm call. How I longed to do just that, but instead I chatted merrily away to Marjorie, energy ebbing from me with each sentence, until the tea was drunk, the cake was eaten and I finally plucked up the courage to mention just how exhausted I was. I apologised and said that I simply had to grab a couple of hours sleep, and Marjorie understandingly showed me to my room.

The behaviour of the English people I had run into was making it very difficult to nail down a theory that the reason my trip so far had been such a bizarre success, was that Irish people were crazy. One Englishman had spent a morning on the telephone trying to organise a helicopter to take me out to an island, when a boat was leaving only a few yards away, and here was another, making a two-hour round trip for no reason other than to lend a helping hand. Two of the more eccentric pieces of behaviour hadn't been performed by the Irish, but by my fellow countrymen. However, both Andy and Tony had embraced wholeheartedly a love of the Irish way of living life.

How do you manage for money?’ I asked. I was given two simultaneous replies of ‘We get by’ from Ian and ‘Don’t ask’ from Neil. I favoured Ian’s reply because it had less-sinister connotations. ‘Don’t ask’ left open the possibility that they raised funds by selling hitch-hikers into slavery. I changed the subject.

SAIORSE From Saiorse, a name of Irish origin, Meaning 'freedom' Faces problems head on Admired for its originality, dedicated to worthy causes A kind and generous fridge It always stands firm for its principles It does not have to get its own way always Others think it is an extremely clever fridge From Matt Molloys Pub May 20th 1997

Stella explained that when he had arrived, because of his English accent, she had assumed that he was me, and had asked where his fridge was. She didn't tell me what his reply was, and we can only hazard a guess, but I was impressed that he had been prepared to stay the night. It is surely a brave man who goes ahead and checks into an establishment where the first question is 'Where's your fridge?'. Especially if, as he had done, you had arrived by motorcycle.

What followed was a great treat for me. This was Irish traditional music as I had hoped to see and hear it, spontaneous and from the heart, and not produced for the sake of the tourist industry. As I sat there with my pint in my hand, enjoying the jigs and the reels, I watched the joy in the player’s faces and in those around them who tapped their feet and applauded enthusiastically. Music the joybringer. No question of being paid, or any requirement to perform for a certain amount of time. Just play for as long as it makes you feel good. This was self expression, not performance. Someone would begin playing a tune and the fellow musicians would listen to it once through, hear how it went and join in when they felt comfortable, until, on its last run through, it was being played with gusto by the entire ensemble. This process provided each piece with the dynamic of a natural crescendo which could almost have been orchestrated.

It was an excellent place to be if you wanted to hear crowds of wretched philosophers heaping abuse on one another—an endless number of historians reading out their imbecilic writings—innumerable poets reciting their drivel to the wild applause of other poets—gaggles of magicians showing their tricks—throngs of fortune-tellers telling fortunes—countless lawyers perverting justice—or armies of peddlers hawking whatever rubbish came to hand. . . . —DIO THE GOLDEN-TONGUED, C. A.D. 100 ONCE

Hawk looked at Tony without speaking. He had three gunshot wounds and still could barely stand, but

It was a dog,’ says Tony. ‘A dog the size of an elephant.’ ‘An elephant, Tony?’ says Judy. ‘Really?’ She usually finds Tony’s enthusiasm endearing but sometimes he sounds like a schoolboy in the back of a bus describing how he saw a spider that big in the bath. ‘A baby elephant,’ says Tony.

Tony’s patois kept getting broader as we talked. Like Hawk, he seemed able to turn it on and off. “Sho ’nuff,” he said.

Tony is waiting outside, his eyes crinkled into a smile. 'Come inside the house,' he says. He knows what I am feeling. And in I go, where the dogs lie flat on the kitchen floor, tails wagging, and the kettle is whistling, and the house is very warm.

My gameplan is not to have a gameplan.

Heavy lifting is good for the soul but bad for the back, and tends to interfere with lolling about.

I'm against the death penalty. I believe that it is a mistake to show that killing people is wrong by killing people. However I'm not against the random killing of people who snore.

Terrific idea. Two days of advice on how to cope with married life from a body of people who have never been married, and don't indulge in any sexual activity. (Now don't scoff - it's true, they don't.)

I was in a hurry, because packing is something which you always do at the last minute. Anyone who packs two days before departure should seek counseling.

Taking coffee in a tea-room always brings me a certain amount of extra pleasure in that I feel I'm beating the system. It's like having spaghetti in a pizza house, chicken in a steakhouse, or having a neck massage in a Bangkok massage parlor.

I was born into the wrong generation. How I would have loved to have been a dashing young man in the 1930s and 1940s when dance bands and orchestras played at dancehalls, and you could hold your partner close and whisper sweet nothings as you waltzed into her heart.

When your daughter asks you to be a fairy for her 5th birthday party... you better be a damned fairy.

He came across from the pond, the young man and his fridge travelling over land and sea searching for a meaning and purpose in their lives. We speak of Tony Hawks, the Fridge Man. Tony Hawks who came to live amongst us for all but a short while, a Messiah of sorts. We felt ourselves not worthy to touch the hem of his fridge, but then we realised that he was but an ordinary man, his fridge but a little fridge, the son of a bigger fridge--the Big Fridge--the huge, gigantic Fridge in the Sky.

It seems that the more privileged in a society you are, the more convoluted, devious and determined your efforts became in the evasion of putting a penny back into it.

Always good to have slept with at least one person on any committee on which one sits. It's the British way.

There was a lot of work to do, and arguments to have, and kids to take care of, and money to find from somewhere, and sleep to lose. I could do it, though. I could see that. I wouldn’t be sitting here now if I couldn’t do it, would I? I think that’s what Tony Hawk was trying to tell me all along.

Writers—journalists, essayists, bloggers, poets, playwrights—can disturb the social oppression that functions like a coma on the population, a coma despots call peace; and they stanch the blood flow of war that hawks and profiteers thrill to.

If the fridge did sink, it would also be a considerable inconvenience to bathers who would have to learn the exact position of the wrecked fridge or risk the agony of their toes ramming into its rusting metal shell. In the future, it might even appear on naval charts of these waters, novitiate navigators baffled by the small white cuboid marked as a hazard just off the shore.

If the fridge did sink, it would also be a considerable inconvenience to bathers who would have to learn the exact position of the wrecked fridge or risk the agony of their toes ramming into its rusting metal shell. In the future, it might even appear on naval charts of these waters, novitiate navigators baffled by the small white cuboid marked as a hazard just off the shore.

It had been done, the fridge had surfed, and what is more I had photographic evidence, provided I didn’t screw up with the film again.

Have you played tennis on that tennis court?’ I asked. ‘Oh, don’t talk to me about tennis,’ he complained, ‘my kids have been dying to have a game ever since we got here, but they can’t’ ‘Why not?’ ‘There aren’t any tennis balls on the island.’ ‘You’re joking.’ ‘I’m not. Not one. The shop’s run out and the guy who was supposed to bring some out from the mainland forgot’ Island life encapsulated.

Size isn't important', he quipped. I have never adhered to this view. As far as I'm concerned, people who say size isn't important, aren't big enough to admit that they're wrong