The Tale of Ten Thousand Tacos

You fuel the machine. Add the appropriate ingredients. A Breakfast burrito. An Iced Americano. Maybe a Morning Glory muffin, or some kind of soup or salad. But sometimes the machine requires things it ought not to. Rye whiskey. Pizza with jalapeƱo peppers. Ice cream in the afternoon. Overindulgence. You get the idea. You do it too. So stop looking at me like that! Yes, this is my second slice. Go fuck yourself! All of those inappropriate ingredients, however, have an ill effect on how well the machine works. How well the machine surfs. Etc. Living on beer and pizza for a few weeks will leave you feeling like fuck. Your heart heavy, stomach stretched. Dehydrated and discombobulated. A different type of tired. You'll sleep later than you should. You'll skip the sunrise session. You'll search for excuses. Because living on the road isn't for everyone. It requires a rather unhealthy amount of alcohol and ice cream sandwiches... No, that's not true. That's just what happens when two dudes decide to spend six weeks driving up and down the California coast searching for surf. Two dudes who have a similarly small amount of self control. Who say 'yes' when they should really say 'no.' But what fun comes from avoiding everything that seems inappropriate? What experiences are you obviating when you go to bed before midnight, when you eat just two tacos instead of eight, when you turn the music down and order plain pizza?! Live a little. Just don't die. Yet.

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