Possibly Truer: you can tell more about them by how they get ready to surf.
--Trust me, the presence of this 7'10 egg will eventually make sense--
A local at my local drives to the break wearing his wetsuit, board strapped to the bare roof with a single piece of rope. He springs out of his car, pulls off the board in one motion, smiles at us suckers with exposed skin in 30 knot wind and sub-45 temps, then jogs down to the water.
My buddy Reynaud has three jugs of water, all of differing temperatures that he pours over himself sequentially, starting with the coolest, as he suits up. His cigarette stays lit as he does this.
The Guy With The Blue-ish Dog has his gear packed in individual crates. Each of his three wetsuits are as soft, pliable, and fresh-smelling as the day he bought them. He has a Semper Fi tattoo on his arm.
My lovely wife begins her preparations in full modesty, then, after a prolonged struggle with neoprene, ditches ditches towel entirely. Casual passersby are enthused.
Some guys never paddle out, opting instead to drink coffee and wear oversized flannel. Some spew to The Boys on their cell phones. Some sit quietly in their cars, watching the ocean. Some lack wax, some have extra. Sometimes there's a dude all suited up, tending to a fire on the beach.
There isn't as much variance with post-surf rituals. For the lifers, there's usually a little friendly banter, a remark or two about the conditions, then the drive home.
It's the getting ready that's interesting. The preparation. The window into someone's soul as they contemplate the cold, or the power, or the wind, or the sun, or the bliss.
The board order process is a similar window. Last week there was a cryptic, gravely voicemail:"Name's Don. Need a replacement step up for M___ _h__. Nineteen inches wide. No f@#$&ng color!" This message terrified my two year old daughter.
Sometimes the entire order is taken care of in the water. "Make me one of those," someone will say in a parking lot or during a paddle out, pointing to my ride. "I'll call when I'm ready to pick it up."
Sometimes, like with Santa Cruz D and the above 7'10" Quad-Plus-One egg, the process is entirely electronic (we exchanged 34 emails before a planer ever touched foam), though no less indicative of character. Through the course of our preparations for his new ride, we discovered in common: babies, birthdays, occupations, and a love of blood oranges. Speaking of which, this one's getting some color work, so stay tuned for the post-Fatty pics...
