Tom Curren, the multi-talented legend mid-riff. Photo courtesy of Jim Cook/Timeless Ride Photography
November.
Cold and brisk.
Nothing but tail lights.
The film starts at 7pm, are we going to make it?
“Why does every event have to be in the City?”
Traffic is hideous.
We reminisce about past sessions—seems like a lifetime ago.
I’m only 30.
“Hey, we moved a few more inches!”
“Dammit, it’s 7:15.”
“Maybe they’re on surfer time and it won’t start ’till 8:00.”
My best friend has no idea where we’re going. He lost his house to Hurricane Sandy.
This night is for him and every other person who was a victim of the storm.
Finally… make a right on Metropolitan.
Next stop, Wythe Hotel.
We’re Long Islanders in Brooklyn. Sorry, we don’t look the part.
Both toting a high-quality Nikon.
Really, we’re not tourists.
Down the steps and through the heavy door.
It’s like a secret dungeon.
Thank goodness, everyone is still drinking beer and mingling.
We didn’t miss a thing (as I almost cause Sonny Miller to spill his drink)!
“Hey, there’s Jon Rose!”
Ok, time to start the movie.
Screening of the classic film, “Searching for Tom Curren.”
All proceeds go to hurricane victims.
Attending the screening are the legendary Sonny Miller and Tom Curr, where’s Tom?
Is he going to show?
The movie begins. Ok, there’s Tom.
It’s a quaint little screening room.
Tom’s surfing is stellar.
Barrel ride.
Whooooo! Yewwwwww! Yeaaahhh!
The aesthetic of the film could rival most of today’s surf porn.
Roll credits.
Jon Rose speaks about his relief efforts with Waves for Water.
Q&A time.
NY’s Tyler Breuer interviews Tom Curren & Sonny Miller.
Search trip adventures.
Rivalries with Kong.
Tom edging out Matt Hoy on a twinny. Priceless!
We’re back on the street.
Acoustic concert to take place at Pilgrim surf shop.
Pilgrim is packed wall to wall.
Everybody waiting for Tom to begin.
The band sets up and the playing commences.
The crowd’s chatter is drowning out Tom’s guitar playing and singing—only in NY!
No matter—it was a wonderful set.
Such an inspirational person Tom is.
His essence alone is healing the wounds Hurricane Sandy left behind.
We shake hands and exchange a few thoughts amidst all the surf jargon.
He signs my EP and poses for a picture.
I feel like such a grom.
Tom exits as secretly as he came . . .
Our breath is visible in the night sky.
This day has come to a close.
A long drive awaits us.
Nothing but open road . . .
A summerland road.
