Occasional Holy Man And Full-Time Half-Breed Who Offers Stray, Provocative, and Insouciant Thoughts About Religion, Archaeology, Human Foible, Surfing, and Interesting People. He Lives Vicariously Through Himself.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Surfboard Tales, Part II
Another surfer and I are sitting in the slow rolling waves, waiting for the next set. He's young and enormous, with shoulders about as wide as a Jack Kirby-drawn superhero [see Captain America above] and muscles so sculpted its as if he has no flesh. I think he could bust the surfboard in two with his bare hands. He's been in the water for seven hours without a break and shows no signs of fatigue at all. He may be able to bust the ocean in two with his bare hands, I don't know.
He and I have just noticed the local beach joggers on an outing from the Surf Health Club; middle-aged folks kind of wiggling down the beach wearing flamboyantly bilious running gear. A true child of the surf, the Jack Kirby Superhero looks off into the distance and says,