“It’s not you. It’s me.” Because a relationship with a surfboard is still a relationship.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is going to work out any more. You’re just, kind of, mean,” Ali said with a nervous tremor in his throat. The seven-foot funboard had been Ali’s pride and joy for over a year now. No wave too big or small.
“How am I mean? No please, tell me. I’D LOVE TO HEAR IT!” The funboard shouted back in disdain.
“You said the other boards don’t like you because you’re prettier than them,” Ali said.
“Have you seen the pressure dings on your other boards! It’s so…unattractive.”
“Would you keep your voice down!” Ali said worried his other boards would overhear. “This is exactly what I’m talking about.” He didn’t think it would be this difficult, but like the old saying goes, “hell hath no fury like a scorned board.”
The funboard was now looking for a reaction. “You’ve been riding that Waveslut haven’t you?” it said.
“WAVESTORM…and just because it’s easy to catch waves on doesn’t make it any less of a board than you. Don’t get your leash in a bunch. We had a good run. We caught a lot of good waves together. But I think it’s time I trade you in so someone else can enjoy you,” Ali said, putting his arm around his board for comfort
“Don’t touch me!” His board wobbled away to the kitchen, and Ali pursued.
The 7-footer that Ali loved so much was hurt, but it understood this moment. It could no longer give him the performance he needed. It was natural for it to reminisce, “You’re right…hey remember that sesh we had in Rincon. We were killing it. Perfect point. You and me.
“Yea, that was a lot of fun! OH and that day in Malibu when it was just us and that 70 year old guy with no teeth…what’s his name again…”
They both paused for a second then shouted simultaneously…“GREG!”
Ali and his board locked eyes for a moment and both let out a sigh, “Well, maybe we can go out one more time…as goodbye,” Ali said.
“Yea, I’d like that,” his board responded with a shy smile.
Ali packed his surfing bag and loaded his board into his car. “Okay, where shall we go? Malibu? Sunset? County Line?”
“Let’s go where it all started…Venice.”
“Mmm, nasty sewage water and violent close outs…I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
They pulled up to the Venice Pier to find the line up rather empty. Waves had a nice shoulder and the sun was shining. Ali paddled out and waited patiently for a set to roll through. A few moments passed when a large wave was building. Ali thought about going after it but instead paddled past it.
“What was wrong with that one?” His board asked. “Nothing, I just didn’t feel like it.”
“Oh…too big for you, huh?”
“No, I just didn’t want to go after it. The first wave is like the first pancake, it’s never good.”
“Oh, well Kevin would’ve gone for it.”
“Kevin? Who the fuck is Kevi…”
“Let’s go! There’s a good one!” Ali’s board interrupted.
Ali flipped his board around and began paddling feverishly to catch the wave. “Paddle harder!” His board encouraged.
“I’m trying!”
“Harder, paddle harder!” His board yelled.
“I LITERALLY CANNOT PADDLE ANY HARDER THAN THIS!” Ali’s efforts
went fruitless as the wave rolled past him.
“Maybe if you paddled a little earlier,” his board said with a snoody tone.
“Maybe if your rails weren’t so thin,” Ali said under his breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, I didn’t say anything.”
Ali noticed another wave in the distance and paddled to get him into position.
His paddles grew stronger as the wave started to come beneath him. “Dig in!” his board yelled.
“Shut up! I’m fucking dug!” Ali screamed back. When he felt the push of the wave he stood hope hoping to drop in but nothing.
“It’s okay, you popped up prematurely. It happens to a lot of guys. Maybe just ride the white wash today?”
“Maybe you should shut up!” Ali shouted, taken aback by his own anger. “God, look at us. I don’t know why we’re arguing. I guess I’m just sad to say goodbye.”
The funboard, took a moment to reflect, “I know, me too. People change, boards change. I think it’s time.”
Ali paddled in and said his goodbyes to his once favorite board. He traded it to his local surf shop for a twenty-seven dollar credit and two sticks of wax. He went home to see his Wavestorm waiting up for him,
“Oh, is that Sex Wax in your hand?” The Storm asked. “Not now, I just need to be alone for a little.”
