A few weeks ago I did a column on the art of the "Moon."

I half expected my editor to kick it back to me, as this is sort of a gray subject matter in a family paper. But it ran and the response was incredible. I also thought if it did run I would get a lot of librarians and mothers scolding me for talking about bare butts.

But I only got one of those, all the rest were happy readers and many with their own Moon stories. I have enough for 10 columns but have selected my favorites that would fit into one. Here they are:

From Steve Pezman, publisher of Surfers Journal

"1962: On the way home from Trestles in my '50 Ford Woody, with me driving, Bill Wetzel riding shotgun, and Bob "radical man" Beadle in the back seat, we found ourselves stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, all lanes barely creeping, north bound between Laguna and Corona Del Mar.

We're riding along when the young man driving the car next to us looks the Woody over and remarks so we can hear, "daddy's car!" He had east coast plates and obviously he wasn't used to seeing young guys driving what to him was a "parents" vehicle. The problem was he was obviously a dork himself, while we were the kings of cool, and the fool didn't know what he was saying and to who.

Plus, his wife is sitting next to him and what looks to be his mother in law is in the back and they're all snickering. That did it! Beadle immediately dropped his Miss's Reed's customs around his knees and pushed his bare butt against the back window on their side, a move which was known in the vernacular of the times as a "pressed hams and fruit bowl." We were all laughing so hard we almost threw up, but not one of us even glanced at them the whole time. We could only imagine what they were thinking. We'd figured that was the last time that smart-ass would open his flap."

This one from David Miller:

"Reading your column on mooning brought back a memory of truly astronomical proportions. In 1976 after graduating HS my dad helped me buy a new car. Not just any car, but a brand spanking new Ford Pinto with a 4-speed no less, even though I had never driven a stick b4.

One Saturday afternoon me and my buddies were coming home after surfing Salt Creek all morning. We took our time home cruising up PCH. As we approached Main St in HB we saw Mike Purpus and his crew walking across the street from the beach. (Did I mention I had a CB radio with a PA system?) I, in my infinite wisdom picked up my mic, as my friend Paul hung his butt out the window in a two-handed cheek spread moon, I yell into the mic, "Mike Purpus is a kook."

The light turned green, I dumped the clutch and promptly stalled the car. By now these guys are right next to my car. B4 Paul could get his butt back in the car one of Mike's crew members snapped a wet towel at Paul, scoring a direct and perfect hit, we are talking dead center. As I restarted my car I heard a horrible piercing scream from Paul. The towel snapper must have been studying astronomy, because over Paul's whimpering I heard the guy yell, "You really can see the rings around Uranus." All of us except Paul were laughing so hard we were in tears."

From Pete Rabbit:

"Your latest on "Mooning" especially interested me as I too still love to moon people, and we're contemporaries! Whilst attending the University of Colorado, two "legendary mooners" stand out ...Oliver Fields, and Bob Trout... They were known to go to the local taco joint, and perform a "Double Inverted Pressed Ham" against the window! This was done by Ollie getting on Bob's shoulders. Many years later, still perhaps the greatest classic moon ever!"

One more from Dave Hobbs:

"We used to look for out of state license plates on cars and drive past them yelling, "Welcome to California." When it was cold in the winter and we didn't want to roll down all the windows we would press our butt against a window. Called it a "pressed ham."

And that's the END of this subject for now.