A Day At The Beach

Growing up in Calabasas in the 50’s was pretty good for me. Before I turned 16 and was gifted a 1950 Ford woodie station wagon we were always bugging our parents to take us to the beach. Since we wanted to spend the whole day surfing and skimming we would try to get one parent to take us to the beach and another to pick us up. Not always easy to do.

I don’t know whose idea it was but some of us decided to ride our bikes. Surf boards were too heavy and cumbersome so we figured that we could strap our skim boards to us or the bike and get along just fine. Our favorite beach for body surfing and skim boarding was Zuma Beach in the northern part of LA County beaches. That meant we would have to drop down the Calabasas grade to Malibu Canyon Rd. Then through the Santa Monica mountains to the Pacific Coast Hwy and up the coast to Zuma Beach. The map program tells me that (via bicycle) it was only a 1hr 53min ride of 21 miles (one way) with a 1000 ft vertical. The map program wasn’t available in the 50’s & 60’s but the route  was certainly familiar to all of us.

Getting there was the easy part. The tricky stretch started at the two lane tunnel through the top of the mountain and the very winding road down from there to the PCH. The reward was a stop at my favorite food cart at the Malibu lagoon, the hot dog on a stick trailer. They only sold two things, a typical hot dog on a stick and fresh squeezed lemonade. They eventually expanded their menu to include cheese on a stick.

My bike at the time was a Schwinn Continental, my first derailer, so I had 10 gears to work with.Though the maps app says it is about a two hour ride, I have no idea how long it was for us. I remember we spent quite a few hours skimming and body surfing before we headed back. We didn’t have to stay on Hwy 101 while climbing the Calabasas grade too long as there are frontage roads but there was no avoiding the vertical. I think that none of us had to walk any portion of it, but I distinctly remember that we were pretty beat when we got to our first stop, my house. My friends still had a ways to go to their houses. We all slept well that night. I can’t imagine how many calories we burned that day.

Jim Flynn was a friend of the family who would occasionally work as a silversmith in my dad’s shop. He offered to give me a 1950 Ford wagon for free on one condition; I was not allowed to give it back. I was astounded to learn he had already given it away to another friend who gave it back and he wanted to be done with it. It was a dream come true for me; there was no way I was going to give it back.

This was taken at a state park in Ventura. We called it “Overhead Beach” for a couple of reasons. It contained a bridge where Highway 101 crossed over the coastal railroad tracks. We parked under the overpass for the night. I think it was Ross Bogart that brought the cot and he set up within 20′ of the tracks, right next to the woodie. When a train came through that night he swore that his cot was sucked a few inches closer to the tracks with every gap between the boxcars that went by at what seemed at least 60 MPH. The other reason we called it Overhead Beach was it had consistently bigger waves often higher than our heads when riding them.

I house sat a neighbor’s house for 30 days while they went on vacation. The owner was Dr Reese, the veterinarian who had his hospital and home just down the road from us. He offered to have my woodie painted at Earl Schibes. At that time Earl was painting any car for $29.95 + whatever body work was needed. The woodie only needed a few patches of body work and the shop threw it in for free because the car had a lot less area to paint compared to a regular wagon. And yes, those are burlap grain sacks that I used for seat covers. A little scratchy, but right in my budget.

I also painted the wheels white; there was no way I could afford the chrome reverse wheels that were the fashion at the time and the orange that Earl had put on the wheels just didn’t do it for me. Dr Reese was horrified that I would paint over the orange. The dog was Cleo.

I offer this story not to claim any exceptional level of fitness for any of us. We were just typical teenagers using the tools we had to get to the beach. The contrast I want to point out here is one of parenting philosophies. We were given so much room to explore and make mistakes and fail, and from that, to learn. But that seems impossible today for the world has changed.

I have no quarrel with the excellent job my children have done raising my grandchildren. I just want show how the times have changed.

Hope this finds all y’all in a nice cool place this summer. You know, kinda like Homer.