Back in high school, until one of us had a car, we’d hitchhike from Long Beach to Huntington Beach, also known as Surf City. South of the pier between guard stations 3 and 5 provided some of the best body surfing waves, so we’d swim to the outer break and merge with the water to catch one that would drive us shoreward until our bellies scraped the sand. Yeah, sometimes we’d target pretty girls standing in the shallow water, to come close enough to prompt their pretend-to-be-afraid screams. Sometimes we’d...