Bonk, Bonk Bonk on the windowsill at 6AM on a Saturday sometime in the winter in Southern Cal. 

It’s me GB he says, Let me in.

There is no surf says the Wracks, I checked the lookout last night.

I need a shotgun for a run up to SB with precious cargo.  There may be something coming in at Hammonds.   Are you out or are you in?

I am in says the Wracks, I will let you in the kitchen.

Meet you there says GB

I had a late dinner at work last night says GB.  Just make me some toast with butter and a cup of your delicious Yuban Coffee.

OK says the Wracks

Hammonds is a magical place says GB, kind of like the Bu.  It is the only break in SB that catches a southwest swell.  A wave rider can surf it all year long.   Rarely, when it gets really big on a west swell the reef works and a rider can get Sunset Beach Hawaii into a point in CA. Besides I have business up there today with the boys and I need a second to support me in case of a fail.   It will be the same as last time.  I have finished breakfast and my cup of coffee, let’s go.  Don’t forget to bring a couple of Pall Mall golds for the ride.

The Wracks loads his board in a board bag in between the seats of the General Motors econocar done in dark green.  He throws in his wetsuit and robey and they start off.

What’s all that white powder on the console of your car asks the Wracks?

Why don’t you wet your finger and taste it suggests GB

What is it says the Wracks, it doesn’t have any taste. 

It is the powder from the bottom of a bag of one hundred hits of purple dome LSD that I picked up last night.

Am I going to go on an LSD trip asks the wracks

Probably not because you didn’t get enough of it, If you want more it is on the dash.

How do you drive on LSD asks the Wracks.

Very cautiously and not as fast as I am used to.

On the one and over the hill to the five they go and C Street is about three feet.

We are almost there says GB.  Watch for the big freeway sign that says “Winterland” and that is where we turn off.

The big sign appears and the two take the off-ramp to a side street bordered by huge evergreens that must be at least one hundred years old.  A wooden gate station comes into view and the officer at the station waves to GB and lets them in the Gate.  In winterland, huge mansions rise out of a soggy meadow covered with green lichen.  The houses are two, some three story high, fashioned of wood in a gothic architecture and set in large lots with car ports instead of Garages.  Cadillacs and an occasional Rolls Royce populate the scenery, and sometimes a four wheel drive land buster.  GB pulls up to one of the houses and they all look similar with years of ivy and Ivy League trailing from the trellises and the smell of wet basement flora overwhelms the senses.  In one of the driveways, GB honks twice and signals out his driver compartment and a young man with brown hair and casual denims appears from one of the houses.

Wracks, Go in the trunk and get the briefcase underneath the wetsuits while I sit here in the car.

OK says the Wracks and he lifts up the hatchback and unearths a black leather briefcase with gold metal trim.

Bring it to me says GB

Kip comes to the side of the car and says, Let me see them first.

GB opens up the briefcase and inside set in red velour are five golden chips about the size of a matchbook.  Silicon wafers etched in pure gold lacing

Yeah, that is them says Kip. I am satisfied.   Your account will be credited.

See you later he says, the point is not that good today there is a south wind and he waves and disappears back inside the house.

We are done says GB.  It’s not worth surfing, let’s get home

What are those gold things says the Wracks.

They are computer chips for a mainframe system says GB.  State of the art.  They use them to plot the trajectories of intercontinental ballistic missiles at NORAD. They are worth at least fifty thousand dollars apiece.

How did you get them asks the Wracks

It is just business, says GB just Business. Let’s get cracking says GB.  We can be home before lunch

The drive south is uneventful and the wind in Ventura and SB picks up around eleven o’clock and blows out of the west till the glass off at five.  Up Moonrise Boulevard and the church of all Religions and the Wracks is back in his nest in the enclave of the west-most subdivision.

Thanks for driving along says GB.  I am going to work now. See you next swell

So long says the Wracks and the wooden gate are worn by the teeth of his little silky terrier and he is greeted by the dog and he enters the house through the back.  It is Saturday and his parents are gone and he says hi to his grandmother, sits down and has a cigarette and another cup of coffee. The skies are blue and almost cloudless and the sun sends warm rays in through the family room window. He gets his text books and turns on the reading lamp and begins to read.

This is long ago before the computer became the Time Magazine man of the year and computer chips were available to all and everyone connects on the internet and the big information superhighway dominates the United States. There are a lot more swells to be had and the Wracks has a ride to all of them wherever they are in Southern California. Now in NorCal, the Wracks sees that a surfer always has waves to ride somewhere in the golden state anytime if they are willing to travel.   It seems the Wracks likes to go for a ride.  Hawaii is a very windy place.