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Recently, a former member of the fabled and exclusive Malibu surfing club, the Topanga Bombers, shared some memories of Miki with 10th Life board member Steve Taussig. Diary of a Topanga Bomber Ya know...there is such a cycle of nonsense surrounding so much of  what was Mickey, Miki, Chapin, Dora...we all know what we know ... we all know what we experienced. Steve, you know, you spent more time with him than I did. Certainly more time away from the water than I did. But he did take me to the première of Endless Summer, and we were with a bombshell of a woman he thought was "so cute," and what I remember is breasts unleashed and Dora's smile that night. And we did surf Malibu together with Cleary on several occasions at sunset and into the evening, and it was fuck all incredible, for me and for those two. Years later, Miki and my beloved and I had a truly enjoyable experience in Biarritz in 1969. I had five pounds of hashish in the Land Rover I'd bought from Cleary. A week before we arrived Rand Carter had sent his hollowed out surfboard adrift at Grande Plage with hash residue still adhered to the inside of the board, setting off an Interpol manhunt that chased all three of us out of town with cops jailing someone, who shall remain unnamed and was yet to become one of the sports leading writers, under suspicion of being involved with the drug smugglers. Miki was pissed because he was in the middle of his own drug-free crime spree with cashing travelers checks and reporting them lost and or stolen. The three of us were all staying in the same hotel I had stayed in in 1965, and at dinner one night he suggested that if I had 'anything' in our Land Rover, that we hide it, bury it in the forest. Which I did the next morning. Simba looked at me, while I was digging, with a What the fuck are you doing? face. Two days later at the beach the police combed through the Land Rover, but never bothered to climb up top and go through the roof rack storage area where the tent had been. That's when we decided things were too hot for surfers in the hood. The Steak House stayed closed for a few days. Our budding journalist was released from jail and left town. Rand was with Mary Richardson at another hotel and Miki took off for Spain. I sold one of my Yaters to a US Marine, and we took off for Paris. 25 years later, walking to the point at Rincon, Miki turned to me saying, "I think I know you!" and we laughed and laughed.