A favorite spectator sport of the young people coming of age on the south end of the Santa Monica Bay were the late afternoon and evening Submarine Races visible from lonely bluffs of the Palos Verdes Peninsula. It was normal that when a young man would propose this attraction to his best girl she would feign gullibility, agree to the excursion, and then stare intently at the Bay in an attempt to discern the radar towers protruding above the water, which would mark the progress of the Submarines as they raced across the bay.
It was, however, just a short matter of time before the young lady would become bored with the activity and turn her attention and affections to her young man, which was after all the true purpose of parking in the moonlight on a lonely, lovely, Palos Verdes Peninsula Bluff.
Now I never believed for a moment that any of the young ladies were ever tricked into accompanying their young man up onto the Peninsula for what was really a contact sport after all. But, even as I now approach the age of sixty, I cannot think of many things I’d like to do more than to ask my best girl if she’d like to go with me and watch the Submarines as they race beneath the waves of the Santa Monica Bay.
Now that’s amore.