In case the wrong impression has been given, not everyone on this little slice of Skinny Island is lying around just waiting for Happy Hour. There are folks still trying to make a living, with varying degrees of success.  We took you on a little bike ride on the beach a few days back to point out some landmarks.  Today we’ll be walking on A1A, within our normal walking distance, 1.5 miles in either direction, to point out the businesses that fall within that 3-mile total distance.  We no longer know much of the world beyond those parameters.

Beginning north, there is an interesting little beach establishment about a mile from us that has undergone more changes in ownership than Bret Favre has retirements.  It is a funky little beach bar, with a little enclosed dining area for maybe 8 tables, and a big outdoor deck overlooking the ocean.  I can’t keep up with all the names this place has had, but it’s still there.  It seems each new owner gets it going in time for Bike Week, in March, and is able to hang on into summer based on that business, before folding.  It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but a real old-fashion beach bar hang-out, if you like that sort of thing.  One of it’s more successful incarnations was as Betty’s A1A Cafe, an actual restaurant that served excellent food, prepared by Betty herself.  That lasted about three years.  When Papa was a soldier in the Army of the Lord, we would walk up there after church for Sunday lunch.  Very nice.  Betty actually outgrew the place and bought a larger one south of us, which we will get to momentarily.  The current owners have been in place more than a year now.

Moving south from there, the next business is the convenience store-gas station just the other side of the condo from us.  The prices are very high so we don’t go there much except for milk and surfboard wax, which are reasonable.  The gas beachside is outrageous, so we fill up on our infrequent trips inland.  When there are storms threatening I do go over to catch the latest news.  The Deputy Sheriff who patrols up here is almost always there during such times, and he is locked into any evacuation orders and the like.  When a voluntary evacuation of the island is ordered, a few leave, but not many.  Most everybody leaves on a mandatory evacuation.  Most but not all.  You have to kind of roll the dice.  When the winds top forty miles per hour they close the bridges, so you can’t get off if you want to.  I asked the cop one time what the truth was in the rumor you always hear that they’ll come around asking for a next of kin to notify if you decide to stay after a mandatory evacuation order.  He laughed.  He said there wouldn’t be anybody to go around collecting that information.  That’s what I thought.  You are own your own, and that’s as it should be.

A mile and a half to the south is Alfie’s Restaurant, directly across the road from the Lifeguard Headquarters.  It’s a venerable old landmark, with decent food, but nothing to rave about.  Moving back north, the next establishment is another convenience store/gas station.  I think we’ve maybe been in there twice in fifteen years.  Next is a sweet little 50s era motel with its original tile roof intact, a real throw-back, with a shuffle-board court, even.  A few years back the owner was struck and killed crossing A1A.  Immediately adjacent is a funky little shopping area with bait shop, barber shop, gift shop, and pool supply on the ground floor, and one level of apartments above.  Then there’s a little walk-up place that sells lobster rolls.  It’s been a lot of different things, too.  Lobster rolls; a little too New England for me.  Next is a funeral home/crematorium; then a real estate office and hair salon in a bright yellow building; then Bicentennial Park, which I guess doesn’t qualify as a business, but is a unique spot, stretching from ocean to Intracoastal.  Then comes Betty’s A1A Cafe, part II.  Great views and good food, but she’s just gotten too pricey, and they’re always advertising New England clams on their sign.  What, there’s no seafood in Florida?  Whatever.

Another Real Estate office a hundred yards north.  This one has been up here for many years, run by a man many called the Unofficial Mayor of Ormond-by-the-Sea. (We don’t have an official mayor.) A great guy, very civic-minded, he unfortunately died of a heart attack a few months ago at age 60.  New owners; new sign.

We’ve already talked about the nautical gift shop and campground, both in the vicinity of the sub tower, and both gone now.  Next is a little Greek Restaurant, some 500 feet from our house, but closed for ten years now.  Jimmy, the owner, (Jimmy the Greek?) still lives behind the restaurant.  His daughter lives down one of the side streets and walks her little Chihuahua past the house almost every day.  Actually, the dog follows along behind her a few feet.  I’ve asked her if Jimmy is going to open the place again, and she’s always said he’s still talking about.  About six months ago she said he was going to set her up to open and run the place.  A few days after that, she said he’d changed his mind.  Then, somebody lost control on A1A and plowed their car into the front of the place, causing extensive damage.  Jimmy used the insurance money to repair and dress up the place, even laying new asphalt in the parking lot and painting new lines.  We thought sure he was opening again, but the daughter said false alarm again.  We’d like to have it back.  It was a nice little place; Jimmy was a good cook, and there was a cool little six-stool bar.  We’ll see.

Next is maybe the most interesting anomaly on the beach, Rich’s Garage.  There can’t be an automotive repair shop with a better view than this.  The bay looks directly out onto the Atlantic.  It also has been here forever.  Two guys owned it prior to Rich, one of whom lived in a little attached apartment.  They were rude and impatient, and always out to get you.  Rich is a whole different story.  A one-man operation, (sometimes helped out in the office by his mom,) he calls all his customers Sir and Ma’am, does a great job quickly, and is reasonably priced.  And talk about convenient.  I’ve actually pushed vehicles up there by hand.

That’s it.  Quirky and not always pretty to look at, commerce nevertheless thrives, after a fashion, on this part of Skinny Island.