DO YOU EVER WATCH VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE? Of course you do, everybody does. Even those people who say they don’t, do.

I watched a couple of YouTube videos just this morning — no big deal, right? Well, yes and no. You see, the videos I watched this morning were about me and my little brother Brian. And it’s funny, when you’re watching “you” on pretty much the Internet video platform, it makes the things you did in the video seem almost larger than life — more important maybe than they really were.

But the things Brian and I did were important.

At least, they were important to us — and here’s why: When Brian and I were growing up in the little town of Morgan Hill back in the 1970s, we were skateboarders. We used to spend hour after hour riding our boards through the neighborhood and around town in search of good terrain to carve.

There were two houses on our street built on a slight grade whose driveways met at the bottom to form a sort of sloping curve. I am now amazed when I think back on the amount of time we could ride down one driveway and then up the other, turn around, and do it again.

Over. And over. And over.

And there was this other driveway the next street up that had a perfect little curved transition that we could ride up, do a “kick turn,” and then ride back down. Over. And over. And over. Well, either that, or until the homeowners came out and chased us off — I remember them being pretty cranky.

I guess my point is this: Skateboarding wasn’t just a pastime or a game to Brian and me, it was a connection to each other. No matter what else was going on, it was something we always had that joined us together. It bridged our differences. It spanned any distance that ever came between us. It made us happy.

And for a while there, it was who we were.

Now back to why our YouTube videos are so important: They are of Brian and me careening down a very large mountain in the East Bay which, for reasons of propriety, shall remain unnamed. And all the careening takes place on skateboards.

Now a few words as to why that might be interesting: I’m 50. My “little” brother is 48. The mountain in question is quite steep. And, while it’s true we picked the least steep-ish parts we could find — dammit, we’re old.

It could be argued, quite successfully, that we have no business riding down mountain roads on skateboards. But here’s the deal — skateboarding is our connection. It’s that thing that not only binds us to each other, but to our youth. It’s the magic carpet that, for a minute, erases all the years and transports us to a place of pure enjoyment.

It’s nirvana on urethane wheels.

It’s also the thing that scares the hell out of us. And while as men we don’t like to admit that, it’s important. I don’t know exactly why it’s important, just that it is — sort of in that “it makes you feel more alive” kind of way, you know?

So to start feeling a bit more alive, Brian and I first drove to the peak of the mountain, where we found a steep stretch of road with no cars on it and no one looking. Brian took the first run as I kept the video camera trained on him. Though he hadn’t skated in some years (he doesn’t own a board any more) he fell into a naturally fluid motion as he carved back and forth almost the full width of the road and then flew by me at speed.

When my turn came I took a sturdy, and probably too wide, stance on the board that said, in no uncertain terms, “Dear God I hope I don’t fall off.” And I didn’t. I just flew down the hill going as fast on a skateboard as I’ve likely ever gone.

And the grin that led to was plastered to my face for much of the rest of the day.

After a few more runs Brian and I loaded my boards in the car and headed down the mountain in search of more runs, this time with a little more terrain and maybe not quite such a steep grade.

After a short drive we found a stretch of road that undulated a bit — it went down, came back up, went down again and then curved off to the left. Again Brian was first to go — he was like a kid at Christmas. He flew down the hill on the bigger of the two skateboards, which is about five feet long, with huge wide trucks (axles) and big, soft wheels. I call that board “Big Easy” because it’s uncomplicated to ride and engenders confidence in most situations.

After Brian I took my turn up and down and off to the left — also on Big Easy.

After that we had the bright idea of videoing each other as we both rode down the mountain. I was going to start, so I grabbed the video camera and climbed on Big Easy, because its large smooth ride would allow me to concentrate on what I was filming as opposed to worrying about controlling a board.

This left Brian to ride the other board — the one I like to call “Hot Rod.” I call it that because it’s fast. And, like a hot rod, when you really get going the back end tends to slide out a bit.

So as Brian started down the hill I filmed him going by and then pushed off myself. As I started to go faster I kept my eye on the camera’s view finder, and kept Brian in the middle of it.

As he and Hot Rod picked up speed, I could see he was starting to pump the board to get even more speed out of it, which left him going into the final turn at a pretty good rate — which is when Hot Rod’s tail started to slide out. Brian’s pretty quick, so he caught it. He even caught it a second time when the board tried to slide out again — at which point he threw his arms up in triumph.

But don’t take my word for it — it’s all on YouTube.

After a few more runs, there and farther down the mountain, we called it a day and headed to a little Italian place I know for dinner. After that, out in the parking lot, I gave Brian a skateboard that I’d put together for him. It was something I’d been meaning to do for some time — ever since he’d stood as best man at my wedding to Loretta. And as he threw that board down and jumped on it and tore off across the parking lot, we might as well have been a couple of kids.

Him, happy with his new board, and me, happy because — well, because he was happy.

John P. Gavin is the author of “Online Dating Sucks … But It’s How I Fell In Love,” which is available on Amazon and at Bookshop Benicia.