Our next door neighbors were a retired couple named Walter and Teresa Bent. He was a retired Aerospace Engineer, and she was a beautiful older Spanish lady who I remember cooked really well. I used to go from the time I was allowed to walk next door with my mom to the Bent's and would bug Mr. Bent like Dennis the Mennis. Mr. Bent had this thing up in the rafters of his garage that I would bug him about. "Wasss that?" He'd reply "a surfboard." I'd, without pause, ask, "Can I play?" He'd say, "Nope not old enough, but when you are, I will teach you."
After much discussion with my parents, during summer vacation after my year of kiindergarten, it was decided I could learn to surf. Mr. Bent would teach me as my Father couldn't with his knee (injury). My mother was not too happy, but my father assured her that he learned to ski that young. It was "good for the boy's development!" Ha! Little did he know.
Mr. Bent had gotten this monster of wood with a single shark fin down from the rafters and had done his best to fix it up. I didn't care that the varnish had yellowed and cracked. It was huge! It was amazing! And... Mr. Bent's, trying to lecture me while I stood in awe of this thing on two sawhorses I had only seen in a distance watching the surfers on the beach, only words that rang through to my head were "If you can learn to ride it... it is yours!"
Now I don't know if y'all have seen a 7 foot Hennon from 1960. Not a longboard by any means, but a thick monster of a board for a 60 pound first grader standing all of three foot five inches. Mr. Bent started me on a built up mound of sand teaching me how to lay on the board, paddle, pop a jump to my feet, boogie and crouch. Over and over all morning until I could do it on command, he worked me like a Drill Sergent. We all had a picnic lunch and then after the proper wait time not to get cramps, we went wet!
Well, I took to it in grand style. I'm telling you, I was a natural. Now I was surfing about a foot to eighteen inch fluffies, but I was spotting my waves and paddling as hard as I could and riding to the shore. Every now and then, a roller would curl just a bit, and I was the next grand champion surfer shooting that curl. Then it happened... a little bit bigger wave came and even though Mr. Bent had told me to pick my waves carefully, I didn't listen, and I experienced my first headlong off the board official kawabunga style face plant! Ouch! Cry! No wait! Don't cry! I couldn't cry because Mr. Bent would not give me the board. I found the board and grabbed it and headed back out to the waves. It was then I realised... I had lost my swim trunks.
So picture the scene: this small boy paddling like crazy on a board twice his height in length, bare butt proudly pointed to the sky. I wasn't stopping. If I stopped, I just knew Mr. Bent would be mad I lost my trunks and wouldn't give me the board. As Mr. Bent would try to catch me, I would shift my wait, get low in my crouch and shred that wave heading back out for the next one, my Mother with my trunks in her hand shouting for me to come in. There I am over and over, wiener in the breeze, shooting my first waves and showing total disregard for authority. I bring those same qualities now to SL.
Mr. Bent gave me the board. (I don't have a picture of mine as it is long gone but I've included one from the Malibu Online Surfboard Museum http://www.malibulongboards.com/hannon.jpg) Mom took in my trunks and instructed me in the morality or lack of nudity.
So... late at night... when you find me trespassing in your private surf sim, riding your curls butt naked? You have got two options: stand on the shore and shout in the immortal words of my mother, "Get you ass back here and put your swim suit on!" Or... you can strip off your clothes, thank God for the waves, and ride free with me.
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1 comment:
hehe...sweet...that made me giggle on an otherwise giggleless Tuesday work morning. Welcome Maddawg!
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