When I was in high school, and my friends and I had access to cars, a day at Stinson Beach was pretty much the first choice.

We’d call everyone until the car was full, and head out over White’s Hill, through Olema, past the Bolinas turn and the Audubon Bird sanctuary to the grassy dunes of our favorite beach.

We’d body surf until our lips were blue and we were close to hypothermia. Someone would turn up with some beer, and we would drink in the hot sun until we were sleepy.

Sometimes there would be Europeans there. Men in speedos with Mercedes Benz sport cars and sweet dispositions. I went for many a fast ride around the inlets, and if you are willing to ignore a beer too many, stayed out of trouble, but still had a perfect sixteenth summer at Stinson Beach, flirting with strangers and loving life.