The sun was low on the horizon and the day would soon be done. The waves that day had been mostly shoulder high, and as I waited for my last ride the sun began to slide closer to the sea. My board rose and fell as each swell passed; I wanted my last ride of this perfect day to be the best. As I sat on my board looking west I measured the line-up marching towards me, and as each swell peaked one then another wave rider took off; then there was only me, waiting.
The sun began to slide into the ocean and the giant orb began to flatten as I continued to search the horizon. I knew that dusk would soon arrive and then give way to night, my chance could soon be lost. I sat as tall as my six foot frame would allow and on the top of a rejected swell I saw it. A swell forming a hundred or more feet beyond the others, as I slid down the back side of this lesser bump I began to paddle, faster and faster to meet the behemoth as it raced towards me
As it began to crest I turned and began to paddle towards the beach, my ride still thirty feet or so away, I stroked the water with powerful thrusts; the wave grabbed me from below and I began to slide down its face, my speed now fast enough, I stood and shuffled a foot or so towards the nose, racing for the bottom.
The wave, larger than any other that day was over my head and as I reached the bottom I shifted my weight to my back foot. Turning to the right and now at 45 degrees to the beach I looked back. The curl was chasing me - I walked a step or two towards the nose, to stay safely on the shoulder of this monster wave.
Then, without a warning, I was covered! As the wave curled over my head, the board, the wave and I became one. Then an enormous push of air and water forced me out of this temporary grotto and the entire wave collapsed. I turned quickly left and, surrounded in a mass of white water, coasted to the beach. With the sun setting on my back I walked off the board onto the still warm sand.
As I bent to retrieve my board a shapely foot with a silver ankle bracelet stepped on it and a voice, both husky and soft, said, "Hi, I'm Becky and that was the best ride I saw all day"
I turned to look down into pools of the lightest green eyes I'd ever seen, smiled, and said, "Hi Becky green eyes". Becky took the lead from that moment on, grabbing my hand she asked if she could make me dinner.
We walked up to the sea wall, my right hand in hers, the board tucked under my left arm and up the stairs to the parking lot and my Chevy Van. I reached under the rear bumper for the hide-a-key and opened the rear panel doors, sliding the board over the platform bed until it was fully inside. After I closed the doors I turned and Becky kissed me for the first time. Soft, light and at the end a soft bite on my upper lip. With a smile she commanded me to follow her, and with that she walked over to an old VW bug, red, and climbed in.
I followed Becky and the red bug past the Windmill on the North side of Golden Gate Park, all the through the park to Stanyan St. She turned right on Stanyan and then up the hill to Carl St. where she found a place to park. She waved for me to do the same.
I found a spot further down the street, near where the auto repair classes had been taught at Poly Hi years before. Grabbing my jeans, a "T" shirt, my sandals and sweatshirt, for by now it was after 8:00 and night had replaced dusk. The marine influence had reached the Inner Sunset and fog would soon cast it's influence on this September eve.
As I started walking towards Stanyan Becky began walking towards me. Now I could appreciate all of her, and while her eyes would always haunt me, her movements evoked deep stirrings under my wetsuit. She had on a beach shift, a type of shapeless dress which gave no hint of the shape beneath. But her walk was one of confidence, standing as tall as a five and one half feet person can, with shoulders back and a contagious smile, she was perfect.
Becky greeted me with her arms around my neck and another soft kiss, this time with her mouth open ever so slightly; she teased me with the tip of her tongue, "Hmmm", she softly murmured, "let's go see what there is to eat", and with that lead me by the hand up the stairs to her apartment house.
Becky lived, or so I thought at the time, on the first floor of a large wood sided apartment house, three stories tall, built probably at the time my Dad went to Poly Hi - in the late 1930's. The unit had wood floors with throw rugs and was sparsely furnished. There was no TV in the small living room, only a couch, two end tables and several bean bag chairs. The walls were decorated with posters, some from The Fillmore, and a God's Eye, popular at the time as well as plants hanging from the ceiling, some candles hung from the ceiling too and a large stone Buddha sat in one corner, smiling.
Becky pointed out the bathroom and asked if I wanted to change out of my wetsuit and shower. I still had wet sand between my toes and was ready for warm shower and to free myself from the constriction of the wetsuit, particularly as I grew to appreciate Becky's beauty. Later I would appreciate her talents as much as her physical beauty.
The bathroom was small, painted a light blue, with a small white sink, a white commode and a tile shower. A single bulb behind a glass shade above the mirror lighted the room. I stripped off the wetsuit and rinsed it with fresh cold water and placed it in the sink. Once the shower warmed I let it run over my head, and turned, warming my chest and back. I used the bar soap, scented by sandalwood, and washed the sand and salt from my body, from head to foot. After too long I turned off the shower and realized I had no towel and my jeans and shirt were in the living room where I had laid them.
"Becky, do you have a towel?", I asked.
