rincon and back
About a thousand years ago the two of us were sitting in a bar in Gibraltar done with fishing and tour boat operators cigarette smugglers Moroccan dope dealers ex-cop nightclub owners and off-duty English soldiers when we decided to pack the bags buy two tickets on a boat sailing to New York me to kiss the dark haired girl goodbye then catch the ferry over to Algeciras where we boarded a steamer next day and met the other four men who shared the six-bunk cabin for the week it took to sail over the Atlantic because we were headed for Rincon and any man who has spent a year living in bliss on the far north coast of Aussie has certain memories that need refreshing and from what we’d been hearing Rincon was a fair match.
That done someone told us New Jersey had the best second-hand car deals around and they were nearly right except the diff grinded out halfway to Florida which set us back a day but it didn’t matter because the rednecks who watched us walk into their Alabama truck stop two weeks later looked like they had been waiting for some longhairs to walk in which we did but not for long because now we were half-way to Rincon.
I forget what hill we drove over but there it was before us the old seductress our lover dressed in blue white and gold it was good to see the Pacific Ocean again and almost as nice as getting a good deal for two second-hand boards and away we went strapped up just like old times and hanging for waves which we knew were just a mile away now after driving three hours but being dark meant another night sleeping in the car back away in the hills a little because yank cops don’t like highway sleepers and neither did the bloke who ghosted up tight behind us late with his lights on full beam before skidding past in a spray of rocks and gravel but lucky for him or them because not everybody runs away from a blue if one looks likely know what I mean?
We pulled into a parking spot at Rincon the next morning and watched a fifteen knot onshore mess up a swell that someone told us had been around for the past five days so what else to do but drive up to Canada and see what’s next which turned out different as one of us carried on up to Alaska in the car and the other spent a week in a motel eating clam chowder for breakfast lunch and dinner before taking a six-day train ride from Vancouver to Quebec then a flight to Gatwick for an eight-hour layover before another to Gib and what do you know there she was waiting for me.