When I was a kid I used my brother's fake I.D. to get into a Crazy 8s concert in downtown Seattle. I don't know how I got in there as the I.D. had me down as something like 23 and I had probably just trurned 16, but I ordered a Henry Weinhardt and settled into being one of the only guys on the dance floor. ( I think the Crazy 8s were already past it by then.) At some point I owned an official Crazy 8s cassette tape, one that wasn't a dupe I copied from my brother. Maybe I bought it at that show. It was the clear plastic kind of tape, the kind that smelled like a grape lolli and the tape billfold was the sort that folded into about ten pages. On one of the pages there was a drawing of a corduroy coat and opposite was a little hand-written story about it.
The only time I surfed Cardiff was with sister-in-law's boyfriend and sister-in-law. It was a sucking sort of head-high-ish day, gray and not too forbidding, really, as sister-in-law's boyfriend is a local guy of sorts. I took off on a few good waves and made exactly one nice turn and drop kind of head high screamer that I couldn't believe I lucked into. Thanks sister-in-law's boyfriend.
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