Word: surfed
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Bleached-blond Boy with bangs meets beach-bound Girl with bikini. They stow their surfboards in his "woodie" (a vintage paneled station wagon) and take off for Malibu. En route, a transistor radio beats out the tune that has been topping the charts nationwide, Jan and Dean's Surf City...
...without compunction, to work off his panic and resentment in two->fisted horseplay. When the heroine (Elizabeth Allen) arrives at the Pacific island where Wayne runs a grog shop, he promptly plops her into the lagoon. Then he dumps her in a canoe, knocks her down in the surf, drags her to his Jeep. When she squeals, he sneers. Can't take it, huh? But next day she proves she can dish it out: she beats him in a swimming race. He reluctantly admits she's a good guy and offers her a lei, but she holds...
Hawaii once meant Waikiki-a fabled bit of beach washed by the blue Pacific, where laughing girls wreathed visitors with orchid leis and every day afforded another sun-drenched romp through a paradise of surf and sand, every night (under a perfect moon) another tropical taste of the revelry of luau. But in only ten years, Waikiki has been transformed into some thing that seems to belong more to southern Florida than it does to the once magical islands of Hawaii. Soft-drink and souvenir stands clutter the beach front, the famed beach itself is often so crowded that...
Bathing suits, like ground hogs, are harbingers of a sort. Flung into department store show windows in the gusty middle of March, they hold the promise of summer in every synthetic strand; mannequins plant tanned plastic legs in the cardboard surf, shading their painted eyes against a light bulb of a sun, and even the earliest shopper sniffs about anxiously for a hint of sea smell in the icy air. But by April's end, summer seems only split seconds away; across the U.S. last week, bathing suit sales began to show something of the shape to come...
...water temperature was a frigid 54° one day recently when Mary Margaret Revell, a pretty blonde of 25, stepped into the surf at Sicily's Lido di Mortelle, pulled a pair of goggles over her eyes, and set out for the distant Italian coast. Two and a half hours later, she waded ashore, paused just long enough to gulp down honey, glucose tablets and tea, then started back toward Sicily. The going was tougher now; her right arm developed a cramp; she swallowed sea water and vomited. Only her legs kept her going. At last, after...