Subject: The D.J.Files…bits of a surfing live #6 Truckin’ – djtruck.6 [1/1]
From: (D.Pritchard…Bear)
Date: 3 Oct 1996 23:07:20 GMT
Disclaimer: The following story is true…ish,
but the places, people and other props are all cardboard 🙂
The D.J.Files #6
More 70s nostalgia…
“Come on, come on, you bastards must think I’ve got all day!” Says D.J.
to the others, but does so with a wide grin. _And_ they know what his time-
keeping is like. 3 guys have the day off and have met at D.J.’s to go on
one of his famous round-Wales-in-a-day goods delivery and wave-hunting
expeditions. It’s 7:00 and Bear, Krakatoa and The Feet are piling their
wetties and boards into the truck along with cans of whatever and containers
of wossname. All aboard, engine on. Everyone takes a deep breath ( in the
absence of any vallium ) and D.J. pops the clutch and the truck leaps forward
at probably a couple of ‘G’s
In real time probably only a couple of hours has elapsed, but the 3
passengers have aged considerably as the truck has assaulted the bitumen,
defied Newtonian (and civic) Law and caused assorted vehicular and pedestrian
mayhem before they’ve made 3 deliveries and pulled up at a surfable beach.
Surfable being a reasonable description. It’s not one of your classic
all-time sessions, but hey, there are shoulder-high, if slightly sloppy
waves _and_ none of the guys back at the home breaks are getting _any_ !
Mind you, adrenalin excess from D.J.’s driving has em “pumped up, man”
and they hit the spot like unleashed surf dogs. Wham! Bang!…never-bloody-
mind-the-thank-you, ma’am! Off, over, thru and smack-on the lip. Take that!
As usual, D.J. is the smooth-surfing stand-out; Krakatoa stills surfs
his 7’6″ as tho it was a longboard, turn from the back and walk-up trim;
The Feet has his number 12’s at each end of his shorter-than-he-is 6’er, so
he just alternates his weight foot-to-foot,depending on what he’s up to; Bear
surfs mostly from the one, optimum spot on the board, tho he’s occasionally
seen to slide a foot forward and/or grab a rail. They all basically assault
the waves as tho they were punishing them for the frenetic driving earlier.
Most people who travel with D.J. get a stomach problem: it aches thru
laughing and this day was no exception. But nothing’s perfect and on the
trip back it starts to drizzle. A stop at a transport ‘caff’ for bacon’n’
eggs and a huge mug o’tea (I think someone missed out on the regulation
‘fag ash’ on the egg white, but maybe it’s just the trix of time on an ol’
man’s memory) and by the time they’re back at D.J.’s it’s raining quite
heavily. He just pulls up, says “You can get your own gear out eh?” and
disappears into the house. Oh great, thanx, they chorus. And just to show
they mean it, they roll the truck down the road and leave it 2 streets away
🙂
Lyonnesse Surf 