I started surfing 22 years ago at a spot lost in time. It was 1982 or so and the break was still full of nothing but longboards. Wool shirts & hats. Beavertails. I’m not kidding and it wasn’t some kind of cool, retro deal. The guys there - bearded, every single one - just didn’t like the modern world. Tore down the road signs that showed the way to the town.
10 minutes away was a beach where nearly every surfer sported a 6’ single and a neon body glove.
My mom lived in this odd little town and I spent weekends out there with her. I didn’t know anyone and there weren’t many kids anyway. One of the local guys, an electrician, let me clean up for him after his Saturday jobs and then loaned me a board as pay. It was a San Francisco O’Neill, around 9 feet long and about 4 lb / foot.
Over the years I tried a lot of boards. Owned countless chips and even a few thrusters 
. Even went to college in LA and surfed Trestles more often than I should have…
But I still surf the wave in that little odd town more than anywhere else. And I do it on 10’ equipment. The wave really isn’t suited for shortboards. The outside is too mushy and the inside section is just screaming to be noseridden across. Left-go-right takeoffs are the only way to really get enough speed to carry across a deep spot where the wave backs off. Leashes are unnecessary because even if you swim the wave rolls gently enough that (if your board is heavy enough) it pops out the back. And there’s a beachbreak you can see from the lineup that usually contains 30 spastic butt wigglers pumping for speed and trying to make an unmakeable section while there are 3 of us 1/4 mile off shore waiting over our favorite boil for the sets we know are coming.
I surf it all the time and when I’m not there I surf it in my head. And, in my head, if I ever look down, there’s a lot of board under my feet.