By Joelle Farrell Inquirer Staff Writer Inside a frigid warehouse in South Philadelphia, where blaring punk music and the thunderous sound of skateboard wheels on birch planks echoes off the metal rafters, Patrick Guidotti is not skating. He stands on a deck sipping coffee and nursing a foot injury while his friends swoop up to grind the edge of the pocket in front of him. The gaps between the bricks make the coping look like a serrated knife, and the skateboards sound like machine guns firing when they slide over the ragged edge. At 36, Guidotti is an elder in the skateboarding world. The oldest, actually, of seven guys who showed up last Wednesday night at the winter skate haven known as the Warehouse, a semisecret spot about the size of a basketball court where skaters can duck out of the rain and snow and drop in on wooden ramps, pockets and bowls, built solid as a ship above a concrete floor. Some of the city's skateboarders pulled together in 2007 to build the obstacles and bowls inside this burgundy building near Washington Avenue. Now, when snow and rain trouble their favorite outdoor spots, they head inside the former cold-storage facility, still a 20-degree icebox on January nights like this one. About half of the skateboarders are in their 20s, young enough to ride hard and heal fast. A few elders are here, too, recognizable by their wedding bands and the crow's feet visible when they laugh. Guidotti, whose dark but silvering sideburns peep out from under his hat, is old enough to have a wife, a 3-year-old daughter, and a full-time job working in the printing shop for the New Jersey Department of Health and Senior Services. He's also old enough to carry permanent reminders of skateboarding injuries that didn't quite heal; his right wrist, first hurt at age 17, sometimes pops out of place. That's why Guidotti is not skating. He fidgets in the cold, his breath crystallizing into fog, as he explains how, a week before, he dislocated his left pinky toe when he pulled up too high on a ramp and twisted himself on the landing. Got to stay off it, he says, let it heal right. He stares at a skateboard that rolls up near him, winces, then laughs. "Skating doesn't make you a skateboarder," he says, quoting Lance Mountain, a skateboard legend in the '80s. "Not being able to stop skating, that makes you a skateboarder." For more: http://www.philly.com/philly/news/local/80979302.html