There's something called "highway hypnosis." I have yet to discussed it with my psychiatrist or psychologist or PCP, but I believe I have it. It’s like narcolepsy, but with driving. Get me on an open road, a freeway, whatever, and I’ll start dozing off. To be honest, it’s a hazard. But put me behind the wheel of a full-sized, 24-foot-long campervan, and I’m wide awake. (Apologies to my Prius; nothing personal.) And that’s what I did, recently, thanks to the fine folks at RoadSurfer , for a quick weekend jaunt up the coast to Surf Outpost in Malibu. RoadSurfer Pacific Coast Highway has long been iconic for surf trips. The winding ribbon of asphalt hugs California’s coastline so tightly that every turn feels like a postcard — peeling pointbreaks, empty beach pullouts, sea cliffs glowing gold in the evening light. But for years, the classic strike mission usually meant cramming boards into a dusty truck bed, sleeping half-sideways in the backseat, and waking up with a stiff neck before dawn patrol.…