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Growing up on the Peninsula, I always felt Santa Cruz held a kind of mystique. Known for its funky vibe, rock and roll shows at The Catalyst, artists and wanderers living that gypsy, peace‑love‑and‑freedom lifestyle, it was a place that felt farther away than the miles on the map indicated. I wanted to check it out, so in the summer of 1979, my best friend and I hitchhiked our way to the coast and spent the summer living the kind of carefree, sun‑bleached, hippy life that only Santa Cruz could make possible.
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