“Hey, surf guy, is that you?” Photo: Imagine.art
It wasn’t when I noticed the gray hair leaching into the corners of my beard or when I discovered my mid-length was getting dinged up while my shortboards gathered dust.
This totally un-radical realization didn’t slap me in the face like a set wave; instead it rolled along slowly, gathering speed until it dumped me over the falls and into a sea of joint pain and CBD joints.
I’m becoming one of those old, grumpy surf dudes.
Suddenly, everything ruins my vibe, from the traffic on the 101 to the groms airing over the shorebreak to the waves, man, which just never can compete with the good ol’ days. You’ve probably overheard my raspy voice at the local shop, complaining about surf cams and grumbling about t-shirt prices. I’m the one telling anyone who’ll listen that the local break used to belong to only myself and my buddy Nacho — that’s why we camp out there all day and night, taking up five parking spots with our rusty vans and moldy Vans. Yes, we’re grilling hot dogs and no, we’re not sharing with you, Punk!
How does one deal with this type of doomsday discovery? Do I need therapy to stop the cursing when the lineup is packed with chatty newbies on hot pink foam logs? Should I travel to an island to surf empty waves with the turtles? (Scratch that, I don’t have the scratch.)
I’m now resigned to this utterly reprehensible identity. Here’s how I knew I was becoming an ornery log-riding octogenarian…
1) My only wave strategy is to get in super early, slowly climb up until my feet are pressed together, and bellow “COMING THROUGH!”
2) I recently purchased a very used, windowless sprinter van with my ex-wife’s credit card.
3) I blurt out nonsensical phrases in the lineup that vaguely sound like tenets of wisdom but clearly make no sense, like: “The surf’s up, but the waves are down, huh?” or “Getting caught inside is good for you, as long as you stay outside.”
4) Even my teeth are tan. (That’s a tan, right?)
5) I keep a razor and toothbrush in the porta-potty near the break — just in case my wife ever comes back from L.A. and I need to quickly shave my walrus mustache.
6) If I don’t like you, I’ll bite your board like it’s covered in hot sauce: I did the same thing to Ken Bradshaw’s board on Oahu when he was a grom.
7) And I definitely don’t like you, Whippersnapper!
8) As a matter of fact, I’m 100 percent sure that you and everyone else — but you, specifically — ruined surfing many, many years ago.
9) I’m partial to going left on rights and hard right on lefts.
10) Check that: the last time I didn’t go straight was sometime in the ’80s.
11) I’ve been known to grab guys with GoPros and shout, “Just take the damn picture, Junior!”
12) I’m burning you on the shoulder while insisting that “back in my day, surfers played by the rules!”
13) Wetsuits are for losers, don’t you have chest, ear and back hair to keep you warm, Bra?
14) My wife left me for a talented foiler who actually takes “fresh water” showers…loser.
15) The more people are behind me, the slower I walk down the steps to the break, pausing every few seconds to scratch my ass, stretch, fart, or thunder out: “HEY, BOBBY! You beat me to it, you old bastard, you!”
16) If it weren’t for mysterious injuries to my back and both hips, I’d have been on the CT years ago.
17) I’ve dedicated my life to something I’m not very good at, but I’m a whiz on the sit-down mower. Talk about straight lines…and have you seen my tomatoes?!
18) I hold the top score in your dad’s cousin’s copy of Kelly Slater’s Pro Surfer for Xbox.
19) I taught the angriest man in surfing everything he knows about the proven benefits of old-fashioned revenge.
20) I’ve got no clue who Colin Jost or Scarlet Jo-something is, but I know I should be the one judging the Olympics, especially if there are free Piña Coladas.
21) I’d give anything to be young, flexible and fearless again, with an endless summer of bodacious barrels ahead of me, and no reason to cry myself to sleep at night.
