Dr 360, also known as the bodyboard surfer Joe Wolfson who died on February 21st aged 50, spun his last circle in his Volkswagen on the Marina del Rey freeway in Los Angeles rather than on a giant wave. But, suffering from cancer, he probably preferred this death to the alternative of a hospital bed.
During the 1970s, he pioneered the art of bodysurfing and bodyboarding - riding the waves on a smaller, blunter platform than the traditional surfboard, which was too long for his diminutive frame.
Also known as "Joefish" by his family, he got his "Dr 360" nickname from his ability to turn complete circles four or even five times across the face of a huge breaker while on the board.
He won respect for the bodyboard in the surfing community, and went on to win various national and international competitions.
His early childhood was spent in Brooklyn, New York, as the eldest of three children of a couple who were trade union and labour activists. The family moved to Long Beach, California, in 1956.
With his parents' blessing, Joe Wolfson was bussed to a largely black high school, and it was during this time that he was first attracted to surfing.
It became his life; he had always lived one block from the Pacific in Manhattan Beach, where he moved after completing his studies at the University of California, Los Angeles.
Every winter, he went to Puerto Escondido, in Mexico, for more surfing. Eventually, he designed and sold his own bodyboard, but gave away almost everything he earned, mostly through helping children.
Early in 1998, he began to be plagued by a bad cough, and was eventually diagnosed as having an inoperable tumour between his windpipe and lungs.
He, who neither smoked nor drank and always stayed lithe and fit enough to spend all day in the water, was stunned when doctors gave him only a few months to live.
He took leave from his job as a local authority recreation official and withdrew nearly $100,000 from his bank account, to pay for a friend's eyes surgery, and two years' tuition at University of California, Berkeley for another friend's son.
Then, in November 1998, he donned his wet suit and paddled out on his Dr 360 board, leaving behind a suicide note and $5,000 for his farewell party.
Joe Wolfson had been in the water - at night with temperatures of about 55F - for three hours, and was comatose when he was spotted by a lifeguard, who gave him the kiss-of-life and paddled him back to shore. His body temperature was only 81F, but he regained consciousness in hospital, and was furious enough to rip the life support tubes out of his arms.
As he recovered, he read 33 letters from children at a school where he did volunteer work as a basketball coach. When he left hospital, he met the children, apologised to them for "sending the worst possible message" by trying to commit suicide, and said that their letters had made him decide to fight his cancer.
The story of the event made national headlines across the US and caught the attention of Hollywood, where he signed a contract for a film. It might still be made. Always energetic, he arranged a huge 50th birthday party and, with his new celebrity status, appeared to be having such a good time that people questioned whether he was really terminally ill.
Last year, he even made his winter jaunt to Escondido, before returning to California and his youngsters.
Doctors wanted him to have chemotherapy, but he reportedly told his friend, college football coach John Featherstone, that he thought it would be useless and unpleasant.
No cause is known for the crash, in which his car spun off the road and hit a tree.
Joe Wolfson is survived by his parents and two sisters.
Joseph Herschel Wolfson: born 1949; died February, 2000