If a tree falls in the middle of the forest, one might not hear it. When a big, clunky stand up board lands in the street, it will turn more than a few heads. Nothing screams KOOK louder than the sound of fiberglass bouncing on hot pavement like a tuna on dry land. One tiny mistake like forgetting to strap your board to your car could send your dearly beloved stick to a loud and premature death. You don’t have to be in a forest to hear the shattering of your self-esteem. It rings out loud and clear.
In 1975 through 1976, I worked on a king crab boat in Alaska. I learned a few things out there on the Bering Sea. Lesson One: Big crabs have big claws. Lesson Two: Do NOT stand on the coil of rope after tossing the 700 pound crab pot overboard. The bottom of the ocean is filled with slow learners. I’m proud to say that I’m not one of them. Lesson Three: Make sure heavy objects are tied down securely. I was the new deckhand. The greenhorn before me didn’t learn this last lesson soon enough. Understanding some basic lashing skills would have prevented an out of control crab pot from pinning him against the rail, smashing four ribs and causing some serious internal damage. Very unlucky for him, but lucky for me. I got his place on the boat. In the second grade I fell out of my mom’s car coming back from the library. I remember thinking I’d be in trouble because my library book was shredded like my jacket and pants. I also remember seeing my mom’s Rambler finish the left hand turn with the back door open and me lying in the street of a busy intersection. In both these instances, securely restraining these objects would have saved the day. It's a good thing we surfers only have to strap a board or two to our cars.
When I returned to the lower 48 from Alaska, I had a pocket full of jingle and a newfound ju-ju when it came to tying shit down. It wasn’t always that way. My cinching mojo has improved over the years through a long process of failure. These “setbacks” were usually minor in nature but one occasion was outright catastrophic.
I thought that I had perfected a new strapless tie-down system using bungee cords covered with bicycle inner tubes. Pull both loops over the board, attach the ends to the cross bars and bingo, the perfect thirty second tie down. Worked great around town. I really thought I was on to something. But two sailboards flying southbound into oncoming northbound traffic proved otherwise. My new system was not rated for freeway speeds AND strong northwest winds. A teacher driving up the coast was very lucky that my boards didn’t go through her windshield. A crumpled fender, a dinged-up bumper and two sets of rattled nerves were the extent of the damage … except for my boards. Both were in multiple pieces and definitely DOA. They were painful to look at, still mostly wrapped up inside their (body) bags but bending back-and-forth in strange ways. Thanks to Jake at State Farm, the lucky teacher was back to school with a new fender, bumper and a little paint. It took much longer to repair both our frazzled nerves.
There are many of us out there like my friend Chris. He never had the pleasure of hearing, or seeing, his board go MIA. Forgetting to strap it down was all it took. Chris went surfing and afterward placed his board on top of his car. He then drove the five miles home, pulled into his driveway to discover no board, nothing,nada. Just an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, that same feeling you get reaching in your back pocket and your wallet isn’t there. Chris retraced his route and never found anything. He also never heard of anybody spotting it, either. His favorite blade, lost in limbo. Hasta la bye-bye amigo.
Way back when, my surfboards were getting shorter and shorter. Finally they became short enough to fit inside my car. Life was simple.Then windsurfing and stand up paddling came along. Now, big boards go on top. As Yogi Berra would say, “It’s Deja vu all over again.” Lucky for me, I had earned my strap-down merit badge. I wouldn’t want my boards skidding around the highway like a runaway crab pot or a seven year old kid flying out of a car. I’m enough of a kook without my shattered self esteem screaming it to the world.
~ s.west
