I got a Fourth of July special, another photo from the Big Island, from Stephen Davis, but without any captioning or explanation. Therefore, I have to make assumptions. I did talk to Steve a couple of days ago, mostly about borrowing a car he has up in Port Townsend, though Steve, who was headed out for another surf session, couldn’t help but correct me on the photo credit for the photo from my last posting and adding to my Big Island surf jargon, just in case, since I’m surfing vicariously through him, I can use the proper terminology when I’m speaking… I guess, also vicariously.

So, Steve said, he and Cap were headed to another spot after surfing “Cyborg waves that were detonating on the reef.” Okay. Cyborg, detonating. Also, the photo of Makena was taken by Snacks, nickname for someone whose actual name I, of course, forgot; most probably because I was considering whether Cyborg is an apt description for a wave; and, if so, what kind of wave would it be?

CORRECTION – The photo on this page, of, indeed, Makena, was taken by “Cap,” former owner of a boat formerly owned and built by Woody Brown. Cap has a real name, but I forgot it.

Trisha’s car, the Cadillac she inherited from her father, has some wiring issues, to kind of sanitize the actual situation, and our friend George Takamoto, though he spliced and reconnected all the wires we could find that mice had chewed, pretty much as collateral damage in some expectant momma mouse’s quest to have a nice place in which to have her babies, cannot figure out exactly why the turn signals on the left side still don’t work. We have pretty much torn the car apart, put it back together, downloaded repair manuals (costly, so far unhelpful- the latest one has over 6,000 pages and no index, no apparent way to just skip ahead); the net result being the car may be out of service for a while.

Meanwhile, Trish is not stoked about driving, or even riding around in my big boy, full sized, paint-smelling work van; and refuses to ride in or drive my surf rig, the 1987 Toyota Camry. Something about fire danger and the lack of a muffler, and the wet wetsuit smell (alleged, smells fine to me). With the recent and expected hot weather, the air conditioner in the Toyota works great but the fan works… sometimes, the fan works great in the van, but the coolant is long gone.

The air conditioning in the Cadillac; great.

Steve’s potential loaner, a kind of badass looking (compared to the Camry) Nissan SUV, up in Port Townsend, is uninsured. My insurance people say I can’t insure a car I don’t own. Steve could get the car insured and I could borrow it, or I could buy it. Time and distance. Steve said he’d check into the insurance thing, but, no, wait, he has to go surfing.

That was Friday. On Saturday George and I looked for the proper diagrams and schematics and such that would tell him… hell if I know; I printed up eighteen pages of lines and arrows and stuff I couldn’t read, scrolled through a thousand of the six thousand. It’s the fourth of July and Trish gets to ride over to our daughter’s house. With me. In the van. WIndows open, fan going.

I have to guess this is not Stephen Davis, unless he’s gone switchfoot after all these years. Let’s assume it is Makena. Let’s assume this photo was taken by Snacks. I can’t positively swear that the wave would qualify, in the Big Island vernacular, as a Cyborg, but there’s definitely some detonation on the reef going on.

Happy Birthday, America! Realizing how competitive patriotism is; not arguing about the problems our country has, one of which is even admitting to mistakes and sins in our past; it might be a bold assumption that real Americans try to make things better for all Americans.

To assume- yeah, I know. Still…

Tomorrow’s Monday. I’ll be working. I’m hopeful we can get the Cadillac back on the road, turning left as well as right; that Steve and I will figure something out on the Nissan; that, having missed the last swell window, I’ll be ready and there for the next one. Hopeful.