Some photos are planned. Some just survive the day.
A few years before this photo existed, Devon Cardamone did what a lot of 23-year-olds with a deep Porsche problem and very little sense might do: he spent Honda Accord money on a 1983 911. Red. Old. Beautiful. Completely unreliable.
He drove it across the country to Colorado. Found bits of piston ring in the oil catch. Faced another Honda Accord–sized bill and a decision he didn’t want to make. He gave up the car.
A year or two later, a different 911 entered the picture. Same year, same bones. This time, just rented for the day.
Devon and his buddy Riley rigged up a roof rack and pointed it north on PCH.
The day unfolded the way those days do when everything is working: canyon roads, salt air, medium format film, the kind of light that makes you forget you have anywhere else to be. Devon shot constantly — from the passenger seat, pulled over on the shoulder, mid-drive. A wetsuit hung from an open door. He couldn’t help it. Old Porsches have that effect.
One of the surfboards strapped to that roof was the first board Devon ever shaped — built back home in his garage in Colorado. He’d pasted his own photos and graphics beneath the glass. It wasn’t just a board. It was an object with a whole story already baked into it.
This photo holds the version of the day that worked. The board holds the rest.
After a perfect day, heading back down PCH, Devon gave the roof rack a casual field test — a gentle swerve left, a gentle swerve right. The rack held. The straps did not.
The boards went airborne, bounced across a live lane of the Pacific Coast Highway, and came to rest in the middle of the road.
He retrieved them. Standing in traffic on PCH is not recommended. But he got the boards, got back in the car, and kept going.
The hand-shaped board now lives in Devon’s bathroom. Cracked, unrepaired, exactly as it came home that day. He never fixed it. Figured the damage was part of the story.
This photo holds the version of the day that worked.
The board holds the rest.
And somewhere between the two is the point — nothing staged, nothing rebuilt. Just what happened, and what stayed with him after.
Surf Wagon is available as a Framed Fine Art and Metal print.
About The Photographer
Devon Cardamone is a photographer and artist who works entirely with film. He learned focus on a medium format Pentax, judging distances on a Rollei rangefinder, and exposure on his Leica M3, a camera that has no light meter. Now, it’s all feel and intention on cameras as old as his grandmother, capturing moments in coastal California. He’d probably be a surf photographer if he didn’t spend so much time in the ocean himself, but feels that a focus on life and culture around the water can be more impactful.
Great story. Love the references to Honda Accords. Owned several Hondas but my in my heart I drive a red sports car.