Nothing like trunkin’ it.
Just you, your board, a pair of shorts, the ocean.
After spending a whole year wearing rubber from head to toe,
A slimy, smelly, 20-pound petroleum barrier between you and nature,
There’s nothing like the feeling of wax against your belly,
Spray on your ankles,
The sun on your back,
A gust of wind rushing by
When you drop down the face.
Even the most bone-bending wipeouts feel better
When you can feel them completely.
- Somewhere in Nicaragua, July 19, 2007