After thinking hard about it for a couple of months, he was making the plunge. He balanced the 12-foot long box on top of his shopping cart and awkwardly maneuvered the big rig toward the check-out.
He was 55 years old and leery of starting a new sport at his advanced age, but he had noticed some stand-up paddle boarders heading out at dawn near Hickam beach these past Thursdays while he was swimming there before work. He’d not tried surfing before, but thought the more sedate action of stand-up paddle boarding might be more reasonable. He liked the idea of smooth-water paddling under a pink dawn sky. Nice.
Plenty of boards available on Craig’s List, ranging from $300 to $1,000. And then you had to buy a paddle too, which could go up to $200. These stand-up paddle boards are big, 10 to 12 feet long, and almost 3 feet wide. Last month he noticed COSTCO selling an 11-foot Jimmy Styks board with case and paddle for $750. He finally decided to go for it.
When he got home, he unstrapped the big box from the roof rack and slid it onto the driveway. After inspecting the board and paddle, he quickly realized he had a storage problem. This thing was huge, like a small boat. He would need to build an overhead rack in the garage or on the side of the house, or else keep the board out back on the lanai. These were things to consider tomorrow. It was late Sunday afternoon, it would be dark soon, and he still needed to mow the lawn. He slid the board into its case, and then slid the case into the garage.
At 2:00 on Monday afternoon, his wife called him at work and asked him where his new board was. He replied it was out in the garage, on the floor. She told him it wasn’t there. He told her to look again. Still on the phone, she walked back into the garage and told him it wasn’t there. Don’t mess with me, he said. But she said she wasn’t kidding, and also told him that he had left the garage door open last night after cutting the grass, and she wound up closing it around 10:00 PM.
Instantly upset, he checked with his boss, then headed home to check out the situation. Sure enough, the board was nowhere to be found. It must have been stolen out of the garage the night before. He called the cops, and amazingly, a couple of officers were at his door within the hour to complete a report. The cops were nice, but they held out little hope of recovery. It’s not like they were going to launch an investigation or anything. He thanked them, and took his copy of the police report back into the house.
He moaned to his wife; it was not meant to be. He was too old anyway. He never should have bought the board to begin with. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He consoled himself by tickling a few ice cubes with a spot of bourbon whiskey.
To her great credit, his wife pulled him out of it. She wasn’t a huge fan of him buying the board to begin with, but she was a fighter and didn’t like seeing her husband throwing in the towel so easy. Don’t let them change your life, she said. You go out and buy another board. Don’t let them change you.
He appreciated her spirit, and it lifted him. OK, so the cops probably won’t be solving this case, but maybe somebody in the neighborhood saw something. He sat down at his computer and composed a flyer he could hand out and display, with a picture of the board and likely time of theft. He printed 20 copies and hit the road. He worked his way up the length of his street, knocking on doors, and stuffing fliers in mailboxes. He taped a flyer on the telephone pole nearest his house. On his way home he talked to Eno, the old retiree who lived catty-corner from him. Eno looked at the flyer, then said he had not seen anything.
Having made the rounds, he started walking back home. Before he could make it to his driveway, Eno called to him. Eno was scrambling across the street with his wife, Oko, in tow. She saw it, she saw it, Eno said. In a long silver case, leaning right up against the wall, Oko said, pointing to the rock wall directly across the street from his house. I saw it when I was going to the store about 10:00 this morning. 10:00 this morning, he thought. Something must have gone wrong for the thieves last night. Maybe they realized it was too big to handle. Maybe they couldn’t get it in their car, or maybe they didn’t have a car and decided to stash it next to the wall until they could figure out transport. Or maybe they just abandoned it, and then somebody else took it.
He asked Oko if she saw anybody else around that morning. She said she only saw the landscaping crew cutting grass at his next-door neighbor’s. He quickly called his neighbor Chris and asked him if he could call his landscaper to ask if he saw the board against the wall. Five minutes late, Chris called him back and said yes, the landscaper saw the board, and saw a blue Dodge Ram truck stop, and a guy get out and throw the board in the back of the truck. The truck then took off and turned left down Kihikihi Street.
He relayed the news to Eno, who quickly replied he knew the house with a blue Dodge Ram on Kihikihi Street. They both started walking down Kihikihi Street, then Eno pointed to a house up the street and on the left. It’s there. That guy’s got a blue Dodge truck.
As he approached the house, he noticed Eno was hanging back and across the street. He knocked on the door. A young teenage girl opened. He asked her if she knew anything about an 11-foot paddle board in a silver case that was leaning against a wall up the street. She said, yeah, she and her Dad saw it this morning, and her Dad said we better get it before somebody else does.
He wasn’t sure if her Dad meant to steal it before anybody else steals it, or to “get it” and keep it secure for the rightful owner. He didn’t discuss this aspect with her. He just asked where it was now. It’s in the garage, she said. Sure enough, there it was. He said to the girl, yep it’s mine, thanks for holding on to it. He then grabbed the board and started walking home. Eno joined him on the victory stroll.
Next to his driveway on the grass, he slid the board out of the silver cloth case and examined the board for damage. It looked good and he was happy about that. But he noticed one of the two case handles was torn, and the case was scraped down that side, as if it had been dragged. He mentioned it to Eno, who theorized it might have been dragged away by the thief, who then left it next the wall across the street when it became too unwieldy.
He was contemplating Eno’s theory when a little girl, maybe 10 years old, walked up the driveway, with one of his flyers in her hand. Me and my Dad saw the board this morning, she said, when we’re going to school about 6:30. It was lying in the middle of the street, so we moved it over against the wall so nobody would run it over.
He quickly processed this new information, and looked again at the broken case handle. It all became clear. Yesterday, he had slid the board under his car before he mowed the lawn, and left it there for the night. He had gone to work at 5:00 in the morning. It now seemed obvious the case handle must have snagged on his car’s undercarriage, and he had then dragged the board into the street when he left for work in the morning.
He thanked the little girl for her help, then started laughing with Eno as they shared the foolishness of the truth.
He had mixed emotions. He was proud his initiative and keen investigative skills had cracked the case. On the other hand, he was embarrassed to find out that he was the perpetrator. The main thing was, however, his board was back.
Before he went inside, he backtracked down the street and pulled his flyer off the telephone pole, and out of mailboxes. He worked quickly, so he could get home before he met any of his neighbors. Yeah, he’s gonna catch some shit for this one. Oh well, life goes on. And he will soon be smooth-gliding under the pink dawn sky. Nice.
Waipahu Bob 