I always wanted to surf. Maybe it was the Beach Boys or the Gidget movies, but I often imagined myself riding a big wave. My chance came one afternoon while sunbathing on Black’s Beach. It was the local nudist beach, but I was 22 and unconcerned with clothes. So was the cute guy who walked up to me while I was all greased up with baby oil.
“Hey! Wanna go surfing with me?” he asked.
“I’d love to,” I said, “but I don’t know how.”
“Come on. It’ easy,” he said. “I’ll teach you.”
To his credit, he tried but I was hopeless. I was a great swimmer and had no trouble catching a wave. Problem was, every time I caught one, I either slid off belly first or tried to stand and slid off sideways. I was slicker than a butter-basted turkey. Besides, it wasn’t what I expected.
I had the same experience with skiing. My ski instructor grew impatient with me. My legs kept sliding into the splits. Each time he would lift me up from behind and say, “Now this time, keep your legs together!” Each tim…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Do Not Go Gentle to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.