Occasional Holy Man and Maladroit Carpenter Who Offers Stray, Provocative, and Insouciant Thoughts about Religion, Archaeology, Human Foible, Surfing, Interesting People, and Quirky Music. [Also, "alot" is not a word.]
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,