Back in 2018 Matt Titone and the crew at Indoek put together “The Saint Augustine Issue”, a wonderful 92-page print celebration of the Oldest City — filled with art, history, photography, food, and surfing in St. Augustine. One of the features — Tales From The Pump — went inside The Surf Station and the many things the shop (and Tory) has done for the people who have come up through the store since its opening back in 1984. And while the print issue has been out for awhile, we’ll be featuring some of the stories that comprise the feature right here in the coming weeks. (And in case you missed the issue, limited copies are still available for purchase here.)
For the fourth installment, we’re featuring Ryan Riopko’s words. Rip spent a decade pouring his blood, sweat and tears into the shop, before moving out west to CA to work for West, Volcom, and these days, Vans. While he lives in CA, a big part of Rip’s heart will always reside in the shop. Take a few minutes and jog down memory lane with Rip. It’s a colorful and emotional journey, but Rip’s words paint a raw and real picture of growing up in the shop in the early 2000s.
————————————
Terry Nails. TN is an entire story on his own. And they have already written a few, i.e. the Juice Mag article and various parts in different documentaries.
It’s amazing he made it to this present time. The guy has done everything that would kill most normal people. And he did them all in one lifetime. It’s f—ing crazy; you should look him up. I bring up Terry because he was a shop staple. He was ALWAYS there. ALWAYS had a story. And ALWAYS wanted to talk, more to you but you wanted to listen. And when you needed to say something or had something on your mind he ALWAYS knew it. Terry is a special human and talked me off the ledge of stupid and angry a few times. TN was like your own personal Buddha… and oddly enough, similar shaped. He was just another one of those reasons where you were like, “I need to run up to The Station real fast.” I know all this now. But for the first year or so before the articles and documentaries were out, TN was just that guy who cut people off while surfing — not out of spite but because he doesn’t have great vision. And he could talk all night at the shop with the most unbelievable stories. Endless stories. Dogtown this, Boys that Ozzy here, Tommy Twotone there, Hells Angels this, Heroin Drugs Rock and Roll etc, etc, etc. Way too many stories to be true, from one (alive) person.
Then one day we were chilling upstairs on the board box at the top of steps. That’s where you used to always sit because you could see all the way to the front door downstairs from there and you could listen to TN tell stories. TN doesn’t work the floor. He would always tell us how he knows Alva and Adams and damn near everybody. So this day I look downstairs and sure as shit Tony Alva walks in by himself looking like a transient. Which is funny because I see him pretty often working at Vans; he always looks like that. Before I could get the words, “um Alva just walked in” out, he looks up and sees the side of TN’s head. Stops in his tracks, turns his head sideways… mind you this is looking up to the second floor where we are… and goes “Is that Terry Nails?” To which I lost my mind and the legend that is Terry Nails really started for me. I don’t think I ever didn’t believe TN, but I had my doubts. That day in the shop I realized I had been hanging out with a living legend, everyday. That’s the thing about Station. Shit like that happened there fairly often. Pretty sure TN and Alva left the shop to go record music and he didn’t leave town for like 2 weeks.
————————————
Back when The Deuce (AKA Surf Station II) reopened I worked down there managing that shop. It was my first real job there. So I went down to Crescent Beach to manage and was the dude who was cleaning rentals and sweeping sand… in solitude… all day… everyday. It was pretty mind-numbing. I remember I made a door chime out of a bunch of spare metal screws and bolts and whatever would jingle when hung around a Sticky Bumps Wax jar lid. It worked like a charm. The building was an old house so I would go back in the back corner board room. You couldn’t see it from the front door and could take 5 on the regular. I kept a broom back there to walk out like I was sweeping the floor. You could sweep that floor all day long and there would always be sand somehow. Those were back in the “extremely Volcom” days of Volcom and we were trying to make some noise to draw some attention down at The Deuce. So we had this bright idea to have (then pretty unheard of outside of Volcom and Jackass style realms) ASG play a show in the parking lot.
Tory didn’t really care what we did he was just pumped that we were doing something down there to hype up the shop. Tory was always down for events, always. He was the man for that. So that day it was typical Florida: hot as shit and intermittent Forrest Gump rain. Surf Station 2 had this rinky-dink screened in awning area on the left side of the building, like a huge screened in outdoor room. We were like, f—k it, let the band play in there (like it helped at all). And it was metal framed in a thunderstorm. Standard Florida. Long story short, it was a hit show. There was this old iconic dive hole next store called Pomar’s back then that sold beer to-go and greasy bar food. I think a couple people from in there stumbled over from the noise, all of us and our friends and ASG were there. So like 15 people.
————————————
The Treaty Park Trifecta. When Vinton Pacetti was done with the skate shop at Treaty Park and the contract needed to be picked up, Tory did what he usually does when it comes to his community. He and Shelley stood up and fought to take it over. Sure he thought he could turn a profit there which helped but if you look back Tory always does shit for St Aug and the youth, always. And he didn’t turn a profit, it was a mess, but he didn’t give up. When we first took it over a bunch shit heads who will remain nameless that wanted some of the other interests to get control of the park made life hell. Shelley and Tory had numerous nights driving way the hell out to the park to meet the cops because someone had smashed a window or robbed the joint and the alarm was going off. It sucked, sometimes skaters are like that though, passionate as hell, especially if they think they are getting screwed. Like I said before Tory was always down for events. Always. So I came up with this idea to run a skate contest series through the summer. To show the kids we cared, and wanted to grow skateboarding, not control the park. Make it better. The idea was use our contacts to collect promo and a couple brands kick in some cash. Tory threw down the additional cash to make a prize purse and we ran a three contest pro/am points based contest series for the summer. The Treaty Park Trifecta Series.
Turns out no one had been doing shit for skateboarding lately and Tory was the only one that was like lets do this. It was exponentially bigger than I planned. Everyone sent so much product it was crazy, the prize purse doubled, people were just stoked someone was trying to do something. Ryan King from at the time Flatline Skateboards brought his whole team. Their friends came and so on and so on. It was incredible we got all the pros in N.Fl there, tons of kids, sponsors brought their teams for demos. All three events it was crazy the skating was insane. It changed the environment there. Just another thing Tory and The Surf Station helped fix.
Also, I need to mention none of this would have happened without the help of Shelley Tincher. While I had good ideas I had little self control. We got hammered partying the night before the first stop of the series with the guys in town for the contest. Slept through my alarm, or didn’t set one, whatever. Shelley was there on time and set up my shit with the help of the groms. Restructured the event for us sleeping through call time so no one would miss their spots, and got the event underway before I even showed up. Shelley is a God, and I’m very thankful for the time I worked with her because it also created a lifelong friendship. I see Shelley and Chris Tincher and their son Ethan every time they come out West.
————————————
The shop is built basically in the salt marsh, it backs up to protected state park swamp land. At one point the land behind Station got dangerously close to going away, so they built a huge bulkhead back there. Only problem was, one of the dump trucks backed over the septic tank, it crushed the lid and fell part of the way in lifting the front wheels off the ground. A dump truck in the septic tank. Keep in mind there used to be a Subway in this building and it used to be a gas station so the septic tank is probably the worst thing you could ever unearth. It was for lack of better terminology, a shit show. We had to shovel out by hand wheel barrel loads of minorcan concrete to make the truck light enough for the giant crane to lift it out. A crane big enough to lift a dump truck was big enough to stop all lanes of traffic in front of the shop for 10-15mins.
Having said all that I can’t dive back into Surf Station memories without writing about this. Like anywhere you work it not always peaches and creme, especially after 10 years. I definitely had my ups and downs there, Tory and I fought like family sometimes. But that’s because he was — and is like family. Tory watches so many people grow up and become adults its crazy to think of.
————————————
When I first moved to St. Aug Tory’s sister Dannette Olson used to work at the shop running the books. Danny was the best. She was the total opposite of Tory which is why they worked so well together. She was tough as nails, fiesty, and didn’t take shit from anyone. She also liked to have a good time, much like us. If you were close with Danny she was like your Mom, that you wanted to go have drinks with. There is no way Surf Station would be the place it is today without her. There is no way I would have made it past 3 or 4 years there without her. She constantly stopped me from walking out when Tory and I would gridlock. She would always tell me how she would get me raises T didn’t want to give me. Danny was the best. John Comee and I were probably the closest with Danny during those times as far as shop guys go. Tory would never let us all go get drinks together, it was frowned upon. We were all wild, Tory knew it, it was bad news. There really isn’t a specific story here but I tell you all this because I miss Danny very much and I’m crying my eyes out right now typing this. Without Danny there would be nothing written above and that matters a great deal to me. I never got to have that drink with Danny. After she passed away at her reception at Conch House where we used to joke about going if we were allowed to, my license for whatever reason wasn’t in my wallet. I hadn’t taken that thing out of my wallet practically ever. They wouldn’t serve me a beer. I’m convinced to this day that it was Danny that somehow worked that ID out my wallet. Her last joke, thats the kind of person Danny was. John Comee bought me a beer and we cried.
