remember when driving from Pacifica to Santa Cruz, would wave at every car with surfboards on the roof…all 3 or 4 of them…when a thumbs up could stoke the stoke
dayz when if the rent was paid, some food in the fridge, half a tank of gas in the ride, $10 in the pocket and half a lid in the glovebox, life was good
spin that dial in the quiet of the night, open up the vault…rides from decades back stand out like they were yesterday. dozens and hundreds of them, the saltwater running through our veins
time isn’t linear, it’s endless, and somewhere in time we’ll always be in full trim, running that fall line…