U.S. 301 Hillsborough County and U.S. 301 Manatee County have unique personalities
I moved from Bradenton to Hillsborough County in 1979 when I married a third-generation commercial fisherman from Ruskin. I love both counties, and both have been my home.
But these days, driving along U.S. 41 in either county is like trying to navigate the streets surrounding Times Square in New York City — which I have done, having grown up in New Jersey and spending many weekends in New York — back in the day, of course. In case readers are from a generation too young to remember “back-in-the-day” references, I mean when we could park a convertible, top down, two wheels on the curb, in the “Village,” leave things on the seat and come back hours later to find nothing had been touched.
When The Observer News made the wise decision to have an edition that covered both the most southern parts of Hillsborough and most northern portions of Manatee, I couldn’t wait. These areas are so under-represented. People from there are always saying they wish they had a newspaper all their own that they could call with news tips and have a voice in their communities.
Now they do. So I decided to explore the drive between the counties on U.S. 301.
I usually take U.S. 41 through Palmetto to the beach, circumventing the huge curve east of I-75 in certain points, and take I-75 if I am in a hurry to get to a Manatee or Sarasota county destination.
U.S. 301 between Hillsborough and Manatee Counties looks much like Florida did before development began closing the gap between towns and counties. Below, PJ’s Sandwich Shop is one of the first businesses you see when entering Parrish. Penny Fletcher photos.
But yesterday, March 15, I drove south on 301. I had not been south of S.R. 674 on 301 for many months — years even — I’m not sure how long.
I wish I had driven this route sooner. It was like seeing two different worlds living side by side in perfect harmony. And yes, they’re completely different.
Both have many pluses, but they’re different kinds of pluses.
All I can do is try and explain how it felt to take the 14-mile drive between the Hillsborough County line and Manatee’s first “town”— Parrish.
For miles and miles in Hillsborough County, the U.S. 301 corridor is filled with developments — homes, mobile home parks, whatever kind of community you choose.
I remember the first development on U.S. 301 in South Hillsborough — Summerfield. I bought a home there after my husband died in 2003, to raise my granddaughter. At that time, there were cows just beyond my backyard. Except for two water moccasins getting in through a loose screen, which I had to kill because my towel-over-the-head-capture skills were not great and my granddaughter and her friends were screaming, it was paradise.
Now the 301 corridor is filled with back-to-back developments from Riverview proper all the way to S.R. 674, where Sun City Center and Wimauma meet. The cows are gone, as are the orange groves and squash fields we used to walk through and admire.
Yes, living here gives us privileges like clubhouses with swimming pools and all kinds of recreational activities in our own communities, which is what a lot of people want nowadays, especially retirees.
It is a good place for that.
That is why I was so surprised to find U.S. 301 in Manatee County to be the way “old Ruskin” used to be. The zoning looked different from Hillsborough’s immediately. A brick house next to a mobile home. A barn and horses next to a home akin to a mansion. And everyone seemed to have great expanses of land.
I stopped several times and took pictures of fields with no buildings as far as I could see. It was, truthfully, another world.
The most southern portion of Hillsborough County begins to take on that look, as if in preparation for what is to come farther down the road.
I passed the Beth El Farmworker Ministry, the Little Manatee Canoe Outpost, the Little Manatee River State Park, the Sundance Community, where people live who love (and own) horses, Jacob Farms — and then suddenly, where there were no other developments, a brand-new community was being built on the east side of 301 by Lennar.
Just before I hit the Manatee County line, I saw signs for a state hiking trail, and just past Ruth Jones Road (not to be confused with Ruth Morris Road that’s close by) is a small notary service in someone’s home and Berry Bay U-Pick Strawberries.
Crossing Bishop Road, Moccasin Wallow Road and Buckeye Road, suddenly I find I am in Manatee County and wonder when that happened, so I go back and take photos of the signs.
Surprise follows.
No traffic. No traffic lights. Nothing but fields, and occasional home sites and agricultural businesses and two fruit and vegetable stands.
Pacific Tomato Growers. Red Diamond Enterprises. Two businesses I had never noticed before taking this drive. I wondered why I had not taken 301 for so long. It’s a beautiful ride.
I drive five miles. I drive 10 miles. Finally, at the 12-mile range, I approach Parrish.
It reminds me of the Ruskin of 1979. It is still quaint. I got out and walked around awhile, taking photos. I am sure the people watching me thought I must be a nosy tourist, but still, most of them smiled or waved.
First, I encountered the Gulf Coast Railroad Museum. It really shows you railroad history.
I found The Little Store, 301 Tire Repair, a nightclub with a Spanish name I could not pronounce but looked very inviting, and then the “main square.”
There I visited Los Primos, La Placita, and El Tejano. I sure wish I had taken Spanish instead of French and German. But in the 1960s, who knew we would become a two-language country (although not officially, as is Canada)?
The Parrish Supermarket seemed to have anything I would need, although small. But what surprised me most was Parrish General Supply.
It’s a real old-fashioned general store with everything from vet supplies and horse feed to garden supplies. I hadn’t seen a store like that since I briefly lived in Pilot Oak, Ky., in the early ’70s. Oh wait — yes, I have seen one like it since. When I first moved to Ruskin, I shopped in Lambert’s General Store that used to stand on the corner of College Avenue and U.S. 41.
So many changes. Too many to remember.
When I got back in the car, I couldn’t help turning east on S.R. 62 toward Wauchula and Bowling Green. Hmm … we had a Bowling Green in Kentucky, too!
I drove only a short while, passing plant and tree nurseries, greenhouses, tomato fields and more, and I was glad to see that the agriculture that was so much a part of this whole area still existed somewhere, now that Hillsborough is so filled with people escaping the frozen North.
As I turned to go, I saw a weathered sign pointing to Ola Mae Sims Park.
That means I have to go back someday soon. Another place I haven’t seen in the 40-some years I’ve lived here. Now I can really appreciate why The Observer News chose to start an edition joining Hillsborough and Manatee counties. Together, they’re one place that has just about anything someone could want.
