(Ανάρτησή μου, 11 ΟΚΤ 20, στην FB-page "Old School Windsurfers")
"Two cents" of my wind-surf story
I bought a thrashed LASER Sprint wind-surf in the Greek summer of 1986. (I even bought Hoyle Schweitzer's "How-to" book!) I learned to ride it, the same way I learned to ride enduro motorcycles and cook for my mothers-in-law: by myself.
The feeling was great, unforgettable and unique: that 300-litre tanker cut the sea boringly but royally, in order to tuck you needed the width of the Atlantic Ocean, jumping waves was similar to silencing Trump and when the day was done, you had THAT stupid perma-smile carved on your face.
(No wetsuits no harness, no magazines no metubes [sic], no GPS no ABS back then, just the three "eses": shorts, salt and satisfaction – i.e. the original definition of ejaculation.)
I even wrote my first 358-page novel about a wind-surfer who rode a board like that, "rode" many broads like these and then, I sold my LASER to a puritanical blonde milf who wanted it to use it as a sexual-aid/sex-toy/sex-fantasy!
Now, being 65 I don't windsurf no more, (and cook for myself only). But I often sit by the sea smoking to watch these fluorescent youngsters kite-surf, while they talk to their exhibitionistic mobiles. And I think that when ALL days have gone by, they leave us-oldtimers with a bittersweet taste in our mouths and them-kids with THAT same stupid perma-smile carved on their faces.
(Thanx gents for your dreamy FB-page memories and thank you Bart van Heesch for your teary beautiful pic.)
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