The freight training skateboarder rounded the corner and met eyes with Slater, who’d just pulled out of his parking spot. And like a deer in headlights, he became unraveled.

Something that was on my mind during the long walk back up the dirt trail at Trestles was “the psychology of Slater.”

East Coast surfers often lust over the consistency and quality that California delivers on a regular basis. But come fall, if you’re an East Coaster living on the West, you inevitably and ironically find yourself dreaming about back home.