Antihero Skateboards has always stood apart as skateboarding’s raw nerve. Since Julien Stranger founded it in 1995, Antihero has thrived on grit, gallows humor, and an unfiltered take on skateboarding culture. Its graphics mocked the industry, its riders destroyed everything in their path, and its boards carried an unmistakable mix of sarcasm and utility. Over time, that attitude gave birth to smaller experimental offshoots, each stranger than the last. Two of the most beloved are Jalopi and Grimple Stix—projects that embody Antihero’s willingness to embrace both dysfunction and fun. This new lineup highlights exactly why both sub-brands have become cult favorites.
Jalopi is Stranger’s twisted side project, a name pulled from “jalopy,” slang for a beat-up old car. It takes that wrecked-and-running energy and filters it through nautical and mechanical misadventure, producing shapes and graphics that look salvaged from a junkyard or pulled off a sinking ship. But Jalopi decks aren’t just oddities—they’re built with skateboarding function in mind, and the newest series proves it.
The Speedboat, at 7.74 by 33.99 inches with a huge 18.3 wheelbase, is pure skateboarding enjoyment. It’s not a performance popsicle, but that’s not the point—it skips up curbs, pumps through ditches and hills, and turns from the middle of the board with a loose, surfy flow. That long wheelbase and custom wheelwells make it ideal for drawn-out turns at speed, while the shape alone raises the eternal question: do you ride this arms forward or arms back?
The Tugboat takes a different approach. At 9.8 by 32.25 inches with a 14.5 wheelbase, it’s a full-bodied shape designed to feel comfortable across a wide variety of terrain. Think of it as a nod to the 8.38 Antihero Eagle template that G.T. swears by, but widened to accommodate bigger trucks and wheels, with routed wheelwells for deeper carves. The Tugboat is an all-terrain ripper that rewards commitment, delivering a mix of stability and raw power once you adapt to its size.
Then there’s the Rust Bucket, a squared-out 9.2 by 31.6 deck with a 14.38 wheelbase. This one was built to solve the “curb problem”—as Barker Barrett once said, skateboarding always comes back to curbs. With a wide platform for maximum truckage, squared nose and tail for versatility, and a custom sanded hurricane rail, the Rust Bucket is a true curb destroyer. Its durability, switch-friendliness, and double-directional design give it a raw utility that makes it equally good for slappy sessions or street-level trickery.
On the other end of the spectrum sits Grimple Stix, Antihero’s anarchic parody-project turned legitimate phenomenon. Driven by Frank Gerwer and the grinning, chaotic Grimple mascot, Grimple Stix specializes in grotesque, absurd designs that blur the line between skate gear and art prank. The newest release is the Grimplestix Loooongboard, a gargantuan 10.5 by 45.6 inch deck with a 25.4 wheelbase. Its graphic, featuring monstrous yellow hands and a deranged screaming face, looks more like outsider art than traditional skate graphics. Oversized, absurd, and impossible to ignore, it’s a board that dares you to ride it and doubles as wall-ready artwork.
Taken together, this drop proves once again that Antihero thrives when it doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. Jalopi’s trio of functional misfits push skating into new forms while keeping it fun, while Grimple Stix continues to distort reality and mock the industry with every release. They aren’t just products—they’re reminders that skateboarding’s beauty lies in the mess, the wreckage, and the sheer joy of not taking anything too seriously.
What sets these releases apart is how they challenge both the rider and the culture at large. Jalopi encourages skaters to step outside the comfort zone of standard shapes, offering decks that change the way you approach curbs, carves, and speed. Meanwhile, Grimple Stix proves that a skateboard can be both a parody and a performance tool, existing in a space where function and satire collide. Together they reinforce the idea that skateboarding is healthiest when it doesn’t conform—when it celebrates strangeness, unpredictability, and the freedom to ride however you want.
