Growing up, Malibu lived a few miles from Santa Monica Beach. Even at a young age, her parents used to let her ride her bike to the pier. She’d happily zip down the backstreets and cross the covered bridge over Pacific Coast Highway. The sun seemed to always shine warmly in a cloudless sky, and the ocean air was crisp.
Typically, once Malibu arrived at the boardwalk, she would buy a corndog, wolf it down, and then stroll around Ocean Front Walk and people watch. It wasn’t as freaky as Venice Boardwalk, but for a preteen, it was eye opening: skateboard punks, homeless people, girls in bikinis, muscle men, costumed performers, old men playing chess, all mixed together.
Inevitably, she would climb the wooden staircase up to the pier. Most kids her age liked to take the rides or go to the vi
