The Ramps

 There was West Ramp and there was East Ramp.  I'm unsure as to why they were even called ramps, when in reality they are only beaches that abut up to the tree lined cliffs that represented a sectional microcosm from our youth.  Marked access points at both locations led the way to a long set of stairs that descended to the coarse gravel like sands that we all came to accept, as the "beach".  East ramp, as the name implies, sits in a neighborhood at the eastern edge of Sound Beach, and was properly maintained by the property owners association.  Complete with nightly patrols by a member of the beach club that lived nearby.  We seldom if ever hung out at this well lit dead end street with fear of being ambushed by a parent or a roving sentry as we drank our beer and smoked our pot, no one wanted that kind of drama.  

West ramp, one community to the west, was seemingly a more popular hang out for all ages.  From pubescent seventh graders who were just out for a taste, to the more seasoned revelers like seniors.  The place itself was more unique than its cousin to the east.  The mossy pine stairs were covered with thicket almost all the way to the bottom, with landings that offered breaks every 50 steps or so.  These breaks came in handy when the 100+ treads on the way down almost always turned into 200+ treads on the return trip after successfully managing to "float" the keg.  At one point in its history, from a yard from above, slid a large concrete ring that served very well as massive fire pit, which was almost always ablaze with driftwood and various pieces of pressure treated lumber.  

Another unique aspect of the west location was the "House of Andre".  Dre and Del as they would come to be known, would take up residence each summer with their small group of friends from New York City.   Not quite sure to whom the house belonged to, possibly an aunt or uncle, but I'm sure the neighbors weren't in favor of the occupation.   Street was lined with unfamiliar cars on a nightly basis, the Beasties blared from the living room windows, and people spilled onto the front lawn holding solo cups, smoking butts, and carrying on conversations.  Dre's house was always worthy of drive by even midweek during the summer, there was always someone there, front door was always wide open, and it seemed like there was always someone we knew making a drink in the kitchen or passed out on that ratty old couch.