A SHITTY SALESMAN, SUN 16NOV2014

Loc: Manhattan Beach

Time: 0700-0930

Crew: Klaude

Conditions: 3-4 FT+, light onshore, sunny, high tide.

Board: 6’3 JS

     I’ve been trying to sell my brother’s Tokoro, Patterson, and my old JS shortboards on Craigslist, and guess what? NO ONE IS FUCKING INTERESTED IN THEM. Collin surfs at my local spot, and I had told him about these boards. Last night, he stopped by to have a look at them.

     “The 6’3 looks okay,” he said, “but . . . it’s kind of thin.” He feels the rails.

     “How much you weigh?”

     “153, 155,” he says.

     “That might be good for you.”

     He leaves but says that he’ll let me know if he’ll buy it later. I take a good look at the JS. With some size in this swell, it might be a good board for tomorrow. I’ve had shitty sessions the last couple times I’ve ridden it, but maybe it was just bad timing. I pick up the board myself, remembering the great sessions I’ve had on it. Balangan, Canggu, Uluwatu, Nusa Dua. I can still ride this thing. I wax it up.

     Bri and I had a long day. She’s starving, I’m starving. I ask her to just wait and let me strip the wax job off of my Motorboat Too and clean it up first. Figuring I’ve made her wait long enough, I leave a halfass strip job and go in for dinner.

     The following morning, I debate on taking the Motorboat Too and waxing it at the beach, but I’m lazy. A thorough wax job must be done thoroughly, and I don’t want to wake the neighbors. Armed with an old weapon, I pack the 6’3 JS.

     Parking on the hill, I already see that the tide is making the waves a little soft. There’s a size, but it’s just swampy. Perfect conditions for my Motorboat Too. I pray that I haven’t fucked myself, change, and walk down to shore.

     I avoid the main pack in front of the tower and paddle out in front of the brickhouse. It’s packed. Heads everywhere. There are waves. Consistent with size but mooshy. And . . . paddling into them is a BITCH. Fuckin’ JS. Man, that board just feels so thin. The extra three inches feel unnecessary. Why did I paddle out on this thing?

     Getting some lefts, I bog out on the inside. I fizzle out on my cutbacks and lose speed.

     Collin’s out. He’s on his 5’8 that he had just bought off consignment from a local shop.

     “Wanna try it out?” I say. “That way you know if you wanna buy it?”

     He agrees. We switch.

     “Damn,” he says. “Thing’s so long.”

     I catch a right and go backhand. His board is super loose and flimsy but feels better because it’s shorter. I crank out two loose snaps. Not my greatest turns but best yet for the morning.   

     Collin scratches out wave after wave. We switch back. He’s not buying it.

     “Here,” says Klaude. He unleashes his CI Neckbeard and pushes it towards me.

     “You sure?” I’ve already unvelcroed my leash.

     Short, thick, and buoyant, the Neckbeard works. I catch a mooshy ass right, pumping the whole way, waiting for the open face to turn on. I don’t get a good section, but I feel the board’s potential for how much distance I get. I catch one more wave but switch back with Klaude. It’s his board, a good one, and he shouldn’t be out here suffering on my equipment.

     “I don’t know how I did it on this board,” I say.

     My best wave is a left, and it’s not even on a turn. The JS is so light, that I glide up and into a foam climb with minimum effort. It’s the only time I feel that board give me an edge.

     At home later that day, Rick stops by to say hi. Says he scored with all the homies at Rosecrans. I tell him about the frustrating session I had.

     He looks at the JS and says, “Yeahhhh, that’s a good board . . . but you need to use it on a top-to-bottom day.”

     I take another look at the board. I have no idea what to do with it.