This is Salt Creek, my favorite spot in SoCal. Instead of the green and Ritz-Carlton, this used to be barren sticker fields with a dusty side road that led down to the beach. An old guy in a shack would stick a tin cup, attached to a broom handle, and collect twenty-five cents a head to park at the beach. Sometimes if we were low on gas money, one or two would climb into the trunk of my '61 Chevy. With four to five boards on top of the car and three to four in the car, the old guy would give us an inquisitive look.
