By now you’ll have noticed that I’m a bit of a sucker for classic anything. Whenever I have the choice between the new trendy item and the old-school item, I pick the dinosaur. Case in point, I just got my first iPad for note taking and writing. After doing some quick calculations, I realized that my annual notebook expenses far exceed the cost of one iPad. Over the years I could have saved that cost and put both of my girls through college. But I’m using pen and paper as I sketch this out. Fountain pen. Old school.

You might remember my classic board. The one that split in two. Bent like a wet noodle. You might think – you idiot, don’t surf something that’s 57-years-old. It’s bound to break. You’re right. Terrible idea to bring what could be a collector’s item into the unforgiving ocean. The ocean doesn’t care about my emotional attachments. She takes what she wants, boards and people.

Therefore, I’m now riding something much more stable – a 60-year-old board!

That’s right. It’s got more dings than your Ring network. It’s 10 feet and 2 inches long and weighs 40-pounds. Just hoisting it into the car is a workout. But she’s beautiful.

How did I end up with such a classic?

Everyone knew I was upset when I broke my 1968 Gordon and Smith. My wife and daughters got me a gift card to Gordon’s – our local surf shop. And my friend Tarzan jumped in. He collects old boards. His garage is like a museum. But he takes his exhibits for a spin instead of keeping them locked behind glass. “Matt, I know you love these old boards like I do, so stop on over,” he said to me. So, I did. He knew exactly which board he wanted to lend me. It was his daily board for over 10-years. “And now, if you use it, you hang onto it . If you don’t use it, you can bring it back.”

The monster barely fits inside my Honda Pilot, stretching from the tailgate to the windshield. I wrap its nose with a towel, so that if I stop fast, I don’t shatter the glass. But what’s most amazing is that she’s got 60-years of cruising down waves behind her. Who knows her full backstory. So when I pop up and plant my feet, I’m standing on surf history.

I had her out a few weekends ago. The waves were barely there, shin ticklers. Most surfers would consider these not worth the hassle, especially when the water’s hovering around 40-degrees. Most boards would fail miserably in those conditions, too, the swell being just too small. Not this board. She gets into the smallest ripple, which lets me practice – and trust me I need practice. So I surfed off the beach in Bay Head closer to home and caught little peelers for over an hour. Surfed until my thumbs numbed. I worked on turning, paddling and popping, all different on a board of that size. It required more muscle than I’m used to. It was a beautiful day, regardless of the cold. Thanks, Tarzan.

What about brews of either kind? After a chilly session in Bay Head, I like grabbing a hot coffee to thaw my soul. I popped into Port Coffee Roasters, a classic in its own way.

Why? I love trying new coffee to experience the various natural flavors and aromas. I love exploring coffees from different regions of the world and figuring out which I enjoy more. It drives me crazy when I walk into a coffee shop and they have more syrups than coffees. Not Port. They focus on the coffee in a methodical, but no-nonsense kind of way. It’s like walking into an old Italian café. Reminds me of one in Rome that my wife and I happened upon on a sweltering August afternoon.

We’d trekked for what seemed like hours. We were trying to navigate to a set of gardens that were supposed to be above Vatican City. We weaved our way up and down narrow cobblestone streets until we realized we would never find our destination. So we stumbled into a small café where a sturdy, old man examined us. He probably wasn’t used to tourists making their way that far from the attractions. “One caffe and one cappuccino,” I asked him. He nodded and wiped his large hands on his white apron as if getting ready to begin creating art. He must’ve noticed the sweat on our faces, so he asked, “stracciatella?” We nodded, knowing the creamy treat would cool us off. We sat there in the cafe, feeling like we’d been transported to an earlier time. We’d found an uncharted memory and enjoyed every moment of it.

Each time I step into Port Coffee Roasters, that Italian memory floods my mind. That day after my session in Bay Head, I warmed up with a cup of the Columbia French roast. It’s a deliciously flavorful, but smooth blend. No bitterness. Stop in if you’re near Bay Head and in the mood for great coffee from a classic coffee shop.