Gifts for surfers
The best board in the Goose Chaser's quiver is of course, their car. If a wave breaks in a forest when nobody is - wait - if a tree falls on a beach, no that's not it... The underlying ideology of the Goose Chaser, the mantra controlling all aspects of their surfing life is that is must be good, somewhere, and unless you actually get in the car and drive there, well... (trails off).
They'll check the main spots, sure, to get an idea. But about that other place where they once said it was semi-good, six years ago? Yeah, this looks OK right now, pretty good even... but by the time we actually park, suit up, etc. The Goose Chaser's main surf injuries are hot car seat bum, and clutch control calf. FCS II was a decent tech advance to their surf life, but Bluetoothing the mobile into the car speakers so they can swap surf reports, the real game changer. Ever since, they've been able to sonically bathe in surf reports from breaks in other parts of the country that they'd never be able to actually check and not surf that day.
Ever more intricate reasons to keep on driving to check another are offered. Too west. Too north, too busy. Too long period. Not low enough, too low... but perhaps the most tragic if all: Not crowded enough. (There must be a reason the usuals aren't all out there, what do they all know?) The Goose Chaser is still traumatized from that June weekend in Year 10 when there were three parties on the same Friday night and they were unable to get drunk on cider and experiment with digit based heavy petting at any because they spent the entire evening on mountain bike shuttling the suburbs between.
The Goose Chaser is not unknown to check the surf without their surf stuff, in fact, while most folk attribute their recent dog acquisition due to Lockdown, the Goose Chaser saw a much more practical side; being able to get in front of surf breaks but not in an actually going surfing capacity. All that said, it’s the commonalities we all share that make us part of one surf tribe, not the differences. And there really is nothing like that surfed out feeling: Leaving at dawn, coming home after dark, wetsuit and petrol tank dry, four large empty bags of McDonald’s Drive Thru and a sore lower back.
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