It all started with a craving. Summer was winding down, the heat was on, and my fiancée and I were parched from a weary walk through Balboa Park. Suddenly, it hit me, the cure for what ailed us: ice cream at the beach.

Sunset at Pacific Beach.

^{Courtesy photo}

I spent my formative young adult years as a resident of Pacific Beach – first (when I had less money), living east of Ingraham Street not far from Mission Bay High; and then (when I had more money), living up the hill from Tourmaline Surfing Park, where the sunset was practically at my doorstep.

Twelve years altogether.

Long enough to know the location of the best views, be they from the end of Crystal Pier or the top of Kate Sessions Park. Long enough to master the best driving shortcuts from Mission Boulevard to the I-5 (thereby avoiding the clogged arteries of Grand or Garnet).

Long enough to know that San Diegans pronounce the street “Gar-NET,” distinguishing them from tourists who unwittingly, albeit correctly, pronounce the street “GAR-net.” (Garnet, incidentally, was once known as College Avenue: back in the 19^th century a College of Letters was located on the east-west artery.)

So there we were at Mr. Frostie, an institution at the corner of Garnet and Haines, indulging our cravings and watching the world, according to P.B., pass by. What makes this bustling beach community still such a kick is its divergences of old and new, where mom ‘n’ pop meet trendy, sometimes on the same block.

Walk up and down Pacific Beach’s main drag – as we did – and you see vestiges of a bygone day in older, still-surviving businesses with antiquated lettering and stenciled windows (I wonder how they afford the rent out there; it must be grandfathered.) At the same time, maybe even next door, you’re apt to come across one of the street’s ubiquitous tattoo parlors or head shops (You’ll have to explain what the latter is to mom ‘n’ pop, though they’ve probably figured it out by now.) The surf shops, bike rental places and beach bars are thriving as they should this time of year, and the drive-in chains and franchise establishments, while in evidence, don’t seem to have taken over P.B. just yet.

Perhaps they never will.

You used to hear the idea floated from time to time about closing Garnet Avenue to vehicular traffic, variously envisioned as traffic-free from the beach (or Ocean Boulevard) to Cass, from the beach to Fanuel or all the way from the beach to Ingraham. It’s doubtful this will ever happen. It’s still fun to think about, though. Imagine strolling with your sweetie from Mr. Frostie all the way down to Crystal Pier. Along the way, you could score an “I Love PB” T-shirt, a bowl of spice from World Curry and, if you’re real ambitious, a tattoo.

We left Pacific Beach with none of the three that day, but I left wistfully. I realized I missed the place.

Next time we’ll go for the sunset. And once it’s descended beneath the blue Pacific, I just happen to know a good short cut home.