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I grew up in on a small ranch in the coastal mountains above Pt. Mugu in the 60's and 70's. My Dad was an avid outdoors man so we got out quite a bit. I have camped, fished, hunted, surfed, kayaked and hiked the entire state a number of times, desert, alpine, foothill and all climes in between.
I spent a month every summer with my relatives in the Bay Area, first with my grandmother and GF in Hayward for a week (my GF owner an auto repair shop in Oakland and I went to work with him everyday, which I loved), then my Great Uncle in the Sunset District, 23rd Street of Lincoln, then to my Uncle on his house boat in Marlin, lastly on to my other Great Uncles ranch outside of Stockton.
I went to college in California and was a white watering rafting guide/kayak instructor from 76-81, running up and down the Sierras, from the Kern to Cherry Creek, the Kalamath and all points in between.
My first tour of duty was flying out of NAS North Island in San Diego, nearly six years, from 1983 until late 88, of uninterrupted fun and joy that being single in SoCal affords.
California has changed mostly due to the influx of people, but it remains a wonderland if you know where to look. I could not imagine growing up in better circumstances. Like any large state, there is no homogeneity: the cast of characters in different parts of the state are not even in the same orbit let alone the same frame of mind. Put California on the east coast and the pattern would repeat: the Beach Music devotees on the beaches of SC to the doyens of Long Island would all be "Californians".
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1996 FJ80.
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