From the road, you see a sign for Hatteras Island Surf Shop, looking like just one of many others…read morein the area, although perhaps a little more welcoming in a down-in-the-mouth way. But then you pull through a cul de sac, around a fence, down an unpaved stretch of gravelly grass, past a bunch of old cars, and arrive at a big, unpainted, wooden house.
Gear is strewn everywhere: kiteboards, kayaks, paddleboards, and who-knows-what-else. An old man sits amidst the clutter, screwing a new top onto a kiteboard, and glances up at you. A tired, old, golden retriever waddles over to investigate. [You pet it, which it permits, but it keeps its composure.]
"Do you rent kayaks?" you ask dubiously, unsure whether he is a proprietor, a hoarder, or a repo man.
"Sure. $15 a half day."
Without signing a contract, waiving any kind of liability, paying the man, or even telling him your name, you set off in a wobbly but seaworthy sit-on-top, joust with some kite-surfers and explore a nearby promontory. It is a lovely day to be on the water.
When you return, the man is nowhere to be found, and therefore nowhere to be paid. You debate whether to leave the money under the door (which door? there are too many). You could tuck it into the dog's collar if he had a collar. Or maybe the whole experience has been a mirage. At that moment the old man reappears in a battered white van, happily takes your money, and you reenter the real world.
Surreal experience; highly recommended.