I don't talk like Spicolli, I'm not blond, I don't even smoke pot.

Surfer, Newport Beach California

I had a swim coach in Jr. High that once drove a vanload of teenage boys to the beach on a foggy summer morning with a stack of old boards and heavily ventilated wetsuits. I stood up on a wave for about a half a second, and since then I've been a slave to tide charts, hurricane tracks, and Aleutian storm systems. Surfers get a bad rap for being slackers, but you never hear anybody get crap for going to the gym. I suppose I'll have to stop when I die, but not a second before that.