My Story post 15

Those first weeks in Ventura and Ventura College were a bit dark. I didn’t know anyone and I had a room in a house that had two retired ladies living there too. The two ladies were nice enough and my room was great. But the change of being in a new place and new surrounding took some getting used to.

I thought I needed a job so I started looking but had no luck. I would’ve liked to have some spare money but I did really well with what was provided for me. I got 15 bucks a week for food, gas etc. I drove a ’61 VW bus and I always had a few bucks left over at the end of the week. Gas being about a 23 cents a gallon and hamburgers about 19 cents.

The van had as 10 gallon gas tank so to fill it up and drive a couple hundred miles would not even cost $2.50. That $2.50 went a long way with school only a couple miles and surfing only a half mile from home. Even still, having a job would give me something to do.

Everything really changed when I saw this guy driving out of the college parking lot one day… a familiar face. The guys name was Peter and he had gone to the same high school as I had but moved to Camarillo and then stated going to Ventura College. It was one of those double takes. We both saw each other at the same time, eyes meeting, and the ‘hey I know that guy’.

As it turned out Pete was a surfer too. We hooked up and became good friends… I now had a surf buddy. And as time went on I started becoming a regular a “C” Street. Seeing the same guys in the water almost every day or at least when ever there was surf helps you to fit in. Ventura started to become home.

D.R.

My story post 14

Moving to Ventura was the big turning point in my life with surfing. The way it came about was no doing of my own really. I still remember the day my mom asked me if I’d like to move there.

It was the fall of 1966, and my first semester at college… I was struggling with school and personal stuff. For some reason my mom thought maybe I’d do better if I was away from home, that there were too many distractions in and around home for me.

My older sister had done a year at Ventura College so my mom was familiar with the town and the school to some degree. The college was an hour away from home so not to far away but far enough that it would be necessary to live in Ventura while going to school.

Without me knowing it was something my parents were considering for me my mom had gone on a couple trips to the school for my enrollment and checking out housing. After she had made a few arrangements and had tentative plans we had a little talk.

The talk went something like... ‘I know Dennis that you are having a rough time adjusting to college life and it seems you aren’t really happy, maybe a bit disoriented. So your dad and I have been thinking maybe it would be good for you to go away to school. Maybe that would help you be more focused.’ I’m thinking ‘OK.. so? Then she says…’ how would you like to go to Ventura College, you know where Linda went? Move to Ventura and go to school there?’ My answer was an immediate yes.

So January 1967 I had a room at a house in the corner of San Nicolas and McMillan streets in Ventura. About 2 and a half miles from Ventura college and half a mile from Ventura point. At first I was a little lonely, but after a couple weeks I was on track. Being there helped with school, I mean I did better but, it really helped with my surfing.

D.R.