Ripp, Fallon and I went to the Hamptons one weekend and slept on the beach to catch some early morning waves. Ripp was really nearsighted, but a handsome kid without his thick glasses. My life-long friend, Fallon went to BC. For some reason in high school he'd started affecting Dobie Gillis and Dick Cavett. He looked out of place with the surfers, not having a baggy pair of swim trunks. I was driving a taxi cab for the summer, making pretty decent money and spent most of my time day- dreaming about pretty girls who got into my cab and clever ways to ask them out for a drink after work.
When we woke up on the beach we were fogged in, but the waves were beautiful so we went out anyway. After riding waves for awhile, I met up with Fallon back on the beach. Where's Ripp? I thought he was with you. I thought he was with you. Damn. I better go back out and find him. So after paddling around for awhile, I finally catch up with Ripp somewhere in the fog. Where are you going, Ripp? Back to the beach says Ripp. Ok, says I, but you're headed for the beach on Bermuda if you keep going in that direction. Follow me.
http://easthamptonstar.com/Books/2015827/Surfing-Life
