UniRoyal Gal: Tootsie 2017 + Muffler Man: Wrench

My dude's parents recently purchased a house in Bradenton, Florida and one of the first things I did when I learned of its location was to consult Roadside America. I spend hours combing through their maps and archives, planning trips that I may or may not take, and it's the first resource I turn to when I'm traveling somewhere new. I was thrilled to discover that their house was a 15 minute drive from Tootsie the Uniroyal Gal.

Roadside America lists ten known Uniroyal Gals, although American Giants says that they've heard of 17, 12 of which are still visible today. Whichever number is correct, the fact is that there weren't many produced and they are far less common than their male counterpart, the Muffler Man. I saw my first one back in October and I was beyond excited to see another one so soon.

Tootsie, as her current owner calls her, could definitely use a paint touch-up—in fact she's so sun-bleached that she nearly blends in with the beige building behind her. The default was for the gal to sport a bikini, but International Fiberglass also made a removable shirt and skirt (Nitro Girl sports this more modest outfit). Upon closer inspection, Tootsie is actually wearing a polka-dotted bikini, and I love her high-heels and the side-tie detail on the bikini bottom.

Speaking of Muffler Men, there are several around the Tampa area and I made sure that our paths crossed with one on our way to Kissimmee. We were having the worst luck with light—everything that we stopped to photograph was back-lit, but I was still happy to meet my twelfth Muffler Man.

This Muffler Man, which stands outside of an automotive repair shop, has the distinction of being the only one I've seen so far holding a tool. I've seen them saluting, waving, pointing and holding axes, food, signs, a gem stone and a roll of carpet—but I've yet to see one actually holding a muffler.

Mold-A-Rama

I was vaguely familiar with the concept of the Mold-A-Rama machine, but I never encountered one in person until our recent trip to Florida. We stopped by the Tampa Electric Manatee Viewing Center hoping to see loads of manatees and we basically saw one—from above and far away. But they did have a gift shop, a squished penny machine and two Mold-A-Rama machines.

Mold-A-Rama is the brand name of a souvenir vending machine that makes blow-molded plastic figurines. They debuted in 1962 at the Seattle World's Fair and were found en masse at the 1964/65 New York World's Fair. Mold-A-Rama machines were basically the 3D printers of their day, and the inventor licensed the technology to Chicago’s Automatic Retailers of America (ARA). By 1971, ARA had sold the machines to independent operators and two remain today: Mold-A-Rama near Chicago and Mold-A-Matic near Tampa. According to Wikipedia, there were still 124 machines in operation across eight states as of November 2015.

The manatee machine was out of order, but a sign said that pre-made figures were available to purchase in the gift shop. The dolphin machine, however, was working and I put in two dollars and an instant obsession was born. I bought the last Mold-A-Rama manatee that the gift shop had in stock, and it's lumpy and has a hole in its face, but I was thrilled to instantly double my collection.

Fast-forward a few hours and we arrive at Gatorland in Kissimmee to find that they also have two Mold-A-Rama machines: a white alligator and a green double figure of a man wrestling an alligator (found outside of the ring where you can watch its real-life inspiration). Of course I got both, again doubling my collection which rests (for now) at four figures for a grand total of $9 (they're $2 cash, or $2.50 if you pay with a credit card).

I've been collecting floaty pens and squished pennies ever since I can remember, but the Mold-A-Rama fits seamlessly into my souvenir aesthetic—cheap, vintage and whimsical. The figurines are printed with their locations, which is a nice touch, and even though you do zero work—there isn't even a button to push—they still feel somehow personal and unique. It was fun to watch them emerge from the molds, smell their waxy scent and pluck them from the machine. Vintage marvels like the Mold-A-Rama are totally my speed—I don't need fancy graphics or technology to get a thrill—and the chance that I might get a third-degree burn from some leftover molten plastic as I impatiently grab my souvenir is more than enough excitement for me.

The Big Duck

This past Sunday one of my dreams came true—we finally made it out to Flanders, Long Island to see The Big Duck. The Big Duck may not seem like an attraction worthy of being a road trip destination, but I planned an entire road trip last summer just to stay overnight in a concrete Wigwam—as my dude says, my love of novelty architecture knows no bounds.

The Big Duck was completed in 1931 and is, by many accounts, the holy grail of novelty architecture. While not as large as the Longaberger Basket or as interactive as a drive-through Donut, The Big Duck inspired two architects to coin the term "duck" in 1968. "Ducks" are sculptural buildings representing the products or services they provide—they are structure and signage combined. 

The Big Duck was built by a Riverhead duck farming couple to sell their Peking ducks back when 60% of the nation's ducks were raised on Long Island. They reportedly had the idea while visiting a coffee pot-shaped coffee shop in California (land of the novelty building), and hired a carpenter and two stage set designers to help execute their vision. The Big Duck has a wood and wire mesh frame which is covered in painted concrete. Its eyes are two Model-T taillights and they glow red at night (if my Instagram research is to be believed). 

The Big Duck did seem a bit smaller than I expected—it's 30 feet from beak to tail, 15 feet from wing to wing and 20 feet from the top of its head to its base—but it's large enough to contain a gift shop with a counter and shelves of duck-themed souvenirs. 

The number of duck farms on Long Island has dropped through the years due to escalating land values (i.e. The Hamptons) and environmental factors. The Big Duck has been relocated a few times and its fate hasn't always been secure. When the land that it occupied was threatened with development, it was donated to Suffolk County in 1987 and is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Aside from being historically significant to a novelty architecture enthusiast like myself, The Big Duck is just ridiculous and fun—it was impossible not to smile as we were driving and I saw its bright orange beak peeking out over the horizon.

Best of 2016: Roadside Attractions

Muffler Men

In 2016 I saw five Muffler Men and one UniRoyal Gal—two in New Jersey and one each in New York, Ohio and New Mexico. There are hundreds more Muffler Men (and nine more UniRoyal Gals) to see, but 10 seems like a significant number in just two years of casually searching. Although I usually thoroughly research before any road trip to be sure I'm not missing any roadside attractions, the UniRoyal Gal was a total surprise—we drove past her after visiting the half-wit at Mr. Bill's—which made it feel like even more of a gift from the road trip gods.

Lucy the Elephant

New Jersey is lousy with quirky roadside attractions, and Lucy is the oldest surviving one in the US. I'd been dreaming about visiting her for years, and I finally made it to Margate City this October to pay my respects. She was so much more impressive in person than I could have even imagined, proving that no photo or video can replace the visceral experience of climbing to the top of a 135-year-old elephant-shaped building.

Longaberger Basket

The former Longaberger Basket headquarters, the "Big Basket," probably owes a lot to Lucy, the O.G. of novelty architecture. The fact that it was basically abandoned when we stopped there this summer on the last leg of our ALL CAPS EPIC ROAD TRIP OF DELIGHTS, makes it even more of a dream visit for me. I didn't make it to Newark, Ohio until three years after I moved to New York (from Ohio), but it was definitely worth the wait. I hope I don't have to wait quite as long to go back—the Big Basket's future might be uncertain, but its legacy as a modern-day marvel of novelty architecture is solid.

Wigwam Motel

I saw more roadside attractions in 2016 than in any other year of my life, but our overnight stay at the Wigwam Village #2 in Cave City, Kentucky was the absolute highlight. We planned our entire summer road trip with the Wigwam Village as the top priority, and it more than lived up to the hype. When I called to make the reservation, a woman answered the phone, "Wigwam?" and just that simple interaction was a thrill. I won't soon forget the excitement I felt when we pulled up to the dark semi-circle of Wigwams (teepees, technically), guided by the neon sign proclaiming "Sleep in a Wigawam," knowing that we were about to do just that.

World's Largest Pistachio

Despite my desire to do nothing with my life except travel from World's Largest thing to World's Largest thing, I've seen very few attractions that can make this claim. I've driven around the World's Largest go-kart track and seen the World's Largest Uncle Sam, but I was beyond thrilled to add the World's Largest Pistachio to that small list. The weirder and more obscure, the better when it comes to roadside attractions, and I'm sure there wasn't much competition in this particularly category, but it was a memorable stop, nonetheless.

Roswell: Alien Zone

It's been a while since I've been on a road trip, and while I was daydreaming about Roswell the other day I realized that I never shared photos from one of my favorite attractions: Alien Zone. Alien Zone was built in 1998 by a local commercial artist and pastor, and features approximately 20 different dioramas with which visitors are encouraged to interact and take photos. My sister texted me about Alien Zone when we were planning our trip and it was just as cheesy and ridiculous as we expected.

The dioramas are pretty elaborate and entirely hilarious. Each one features an alien or two in a different "real life" situation: at a kitchen table, passed out on the couch, drinking a beer, climbing out of a crashed UFO, awaiting an autopsy, bartending, having a cookout, etc. A lot of the dioramas have seen better days, condition-wise, but the homemade quality is also part of the appeal.

The scenes are really quite clever, and set up specifically for great photo-ops—the kitchen table scene is oriented upside down so when you flip the photo, it looks like you're on the ceiling. You can crawl inside of the crashed UFO, sit next to an alien in an outhouse, and grab a cold one from the bar. I'll spare you the photos that included my sister, brother-in-law, niece and I interacting with the scenes, but trust me—the admission was just $3 a person, but the memories (and photos) we made were priceless.

White's City + Carlsbad Caverns

 On our recent Roswell road trip—after our short hike through Bottomless Lakes State Park—we headed to Carlsbad Caverns. We planned to spend the entire day there, exploring the cave until it was time to watch the bat flight. But before we even got to the cave, we stopped at White's City, located four miles east of Carlsbad Caverns National Park.

White's City was established as a campsite in the early 1900s, and over the years grew to include a Pueblo Motel, drug and grocery store, museum, chair lift ride to the top of Walnut Canyon, theater, water park, arcade, gift shop, saloon and other touristy attractions. Unfortunately White's City's heyday appears to be over—aside from an RV park, gift shop, (terrible) restrooms and a desolate restaurant, not much else appeared open or inhabited.

After extreme build-up in the form of what seemed like hundreds of signs along the highway advertising the many attributes of White's City, the actual destination was a bit of a let down. But, like a lot of roadside attractions today, if you look hard enough you can still catch glimpses of its glory days via its signage, spacious—albeit dusty—gift shop, and old-timey Wild West-theme.

After squishing some pennies and buying a dusty floaty pen (depicting the bat flight!), we headed to the main attraction. Carlsbad Cave National Monument was established in 1923, but the limestone cavern is 250 to 280 million years old. We took the self-guided tour down through the natural entrance, a 1.25 mile hike with a descent of 750 feet. I definitely recommend the natural entrance trail if you're comfortable walking distances, but there's also an elevator that will deposit you right into the Big Room.

All along the trail I kept oohing and ahhing over the formations—nature is really, really nuts—and I couldn't possibly imagine how it could get any better. But when we finally made it to the Big Room, I realized why it was the star—it's breathtaking. The Big Room trail is another 1.25 miles, but we were forced to take the shortcut by rangers who told us politely that we were overstaying our welcome (the last elevator up was at 4:30pm, but they started putting the pressure on us around 4pm).

But even after the kitsch of White's City and the grandeur of the cavern, the bat flight still managed to impress. Photos and videos are not allowed during the flight, and it's nice (in addition to being helpful for the bats) to actually experience something nowadays without the pressure of documenting it in just the right way. I think this about most things, but the bat flight really needs to be experienced—there are videos, but they can't possibly capture the sights, sounds, smells and feelings of sitting beneath thousands and thousands of flying bats. I didn't know there were that many bats in the world, let alone in one cavern—we watched for an hour until it was too dark to see, but the ranger said the flight can last from two to four hours. 

Muffler Man: Mr. Bill's, Uniroyal Gal: Nitro Girl

After exploring the Clara Glen Pet Cemetery on our way back from Atlantic City, we stopped at Mr. Bill's for dinner. I had taken my mom to AC for her birthday, and because she's the coolest, she was totally ok with eating her birthday dinner at a roadside diner which I picked only because they have a Muffler Man.

This was the tenth Muffler Man I've seen, and my second of the "happy half-wit" variety. I met my first half-wit at the Magic Forest, but aside from sharing the same basic mold, they are both styled quite differently. Mr. Bill's Muffler Man has been newly painted, although I do think some of the coloring is a bit off—the face is a bit too white and the lip color a touch too harsh but the wide variety of customizations is what makes all the Muffler Men so fun to find.

Mr. Bill's had been closed for a while, but recently reopened under new ownership. I'm so glad that the new owners are taking care of their half-wit, and even without the Muffler Man, it would be a worthy stop. I had a fried chili dog which was delicious, and if anyone ever asks if you'd like your hot dog "fried or raw" just trust me and know that fried is the correct answer.

A few minutes after we left Mr. Bills, my mom looked back and said "Hey that looks like a female Muffler Man." I immediately turned the car around and realized that she had spotted a Uniroyal Gal. According to Roadside America, there are only ten known Uniroyal Gals remaining, making them much more rare than their male counterparts. They were made by an International Fiberglass sculptor who apparently had a thing for Jackie Kennedy. "Nitro Girl" stands outside of a Uniroyal Tire dealership in Gloucester Township, New Jersey and I couldn't believe our luck that our Google directions took us right past her. Thankfully my mom was being vigilant, and it was an amazing find especially for someone who had just seen her very first Muffler Man minutes before.

Lucy The Elephant

Built in 1881, Lucy the Elephant is the oldest surviving roadside attraction in the US. She was built by James Lafferty, in Margate City two miles south of Atlantic City, to help sell real estate and boost tourism. Two other elephant structures were built by Lafferty—in Coney Island and Cape May—but Lucy is the last (wo)man standing.

I'm very into novelty architecture, and along with The Big Duck (which I still need to get out to) Lucy might be the best example that exists. She is six-stories tall and covered in wood and tin sheeting. She fell badly into disrepair by the late 60s and was almost demolished. Thankfully, the Save Lucy Committee, founded in 1969, was able to raise the necessary funds to save her from the wrecking ball—in 1970 she was moved 100 yards inland and completely restored. When we visited, she looked as if she had just received a fresh coat of paint, and it's hard to imagine that she was ever in such dire straits.

Lucy is billed as the only elephant "you can walk through and come out alive!" Visiting the grounds and gift shop is free, but to go inside you need to pay for a tour ($8 for adults). Even though I'd been virtually traveling to Lucy for months before actually planning a trip, I was surprised at how large she is (65 feet high and 60 feet long). I still have the same experience whenever I see the Unisphere in person—just totally in awe of how small I feel.

You enter Lucy through a door in her back leg, and climb a narrow spiral staircase to get into the main room. Upstairs is a tiny museum containing photos and artifacts, and you can look out both of her eyes at the Atlantic Ocean. The tour continues all the way to the top, which opens up into the howdah carriage, offering 360 degree views (the Lucy water tower kills me).

The gift shop has floaty pens, a squished penny machine and every other piece of Lucy memorabilia you could want—t-shirts, lucky Lucy trinkets, postcards, erasers, stuffed Lucys, pins, patches and even "shell"ephant figurines. We stayed long enough for the weather to change from perfect blue skies to rain shower, but it was worth it when we realized we had Lucy to ourselves for a while. Like I'm prone to do, I researched this Atlantic City trip for months, looking at Lucy on Google and devouring any information I could about her, and yet there's still nothing quite as wonderful as seeing these things in person.

Muffler Man: Fox Cave

On the way from Roswell, New Mexico to White Sands National Monument along East Highway 70—an hour before we came across the World's Largest Pistachio—we drove past Fox Cave. Realizing they had a Muffler Man, we made a note to stop on the way back. When we did stop, it was about ten minutes before they closed, so I frantically ran around the grounds snapping photos of all the wonderful roadside kitsch.

Fox Cave's claim to fame is that it was once used as a hideout by Billy the Kid. The primarily limestone cave was originally known as "Ice Cave," and only one large room is open to the public. The gift shop is full of Native American souvenirs, aliens and gemstones. They also have a "gem mine" which might be a scam, but 12-year-old me would have definitely been into it.

I was thrilled to meet my ninth (!) Muffler Man along with a menagerie of other roadside creatures. Fox Cave reminded me a lot of Trader's World, and their Muffler Men are very similar. I love that this Muffler Man points to the entrance with one hand and holds a gem in the other—he's also in really great condition, and looks as if he just received a fresh coat of paint.

There's a "cemetary" with a tombstone for Billy the Kid, a handful of dinosaurs and dinosaur heads, a buffalo, carved wooden aliens and a cement-mixer-spaceship. I love the random assortment of roadside animals—statues that have no real purpose and don't make sense together, but is there a better break in the monotony of the road than to glance over and see two huge fiberglass hands rising from the ground?

Fox Cave also has its share of strange mannequins, including two guys sitting outside of a jail (photo-op alert!), a miner that has seen better days and a dismembered torso resting on a tractor. Fox Cave was a quick stop, but that's part of what I love about roadside attractions. Sure White Sands was incredible, but the journey there ended up being just as memorable.

World's Largest Pistachio

If I had one dream job, it would be for someone to pay me to travel to each and every one of the World's Largest Things. I love strange, roadside attractions pretty much more than anything else. Maybe it was all those early years I spent watching Pee-Wee's Playhouse, but I love anything novelty-sized—bigger, or smaller than it should be. I've seen the third World's Largest Garden Gnome, the World's Largest Longaberger Basket, the World's Tallest Uncle Sam and the World's Longest Go-Kart Track, but I'm always eager to add more to that list.

As we were driving to White Sands alongside highway 54/70 in Alamogordo, New Mexico, we came upon McGinn's Pistachio Tree Ranch , home of the World's Largest Pistachio. My sister and I both immediately recognized it from Roadside America and yelled "AHHH IT'S THE WORLD'S LARGEST PISTACHIO PULLLLL OVERRRR," to my startled brother-in-law behind the wheel.

McGinn's is an 111-acre pistachio farm and vineyard, and of course there's a large shop to explore after the huge pistachio lures you in. They sell pistachio-emblazoned everything, and an old miner (not unlike the ones we saw at Howe Caverns and the Niagra Wax Museum) greets you at the door. But of course I was most excited to discover that McGinn's has their very own pressed penny machine, featuring the pistachio with the words "Alamogordo, Pistachioland."

The World's Largest Pistachio is not a real pistachio (this should be obvious by now), but it's big enough and ridiculous enough to be a true roadside gem. The plaque beside it reads: "This monument is dedicated to the lasting memory of Thomas Michael McGinn (1929-2007). The founder of the pistachio tree ranch, this little slice of New Mexico desert was Tom's canvas to create his tireless legacy his tireless dedication to his dream made his farm the success it is today. Tom dreamed big, expected big, and accomplished big things. He would have said this monument is not big enough. His legacy lives on."

There's really no point to the huge pistachio—other than a mandatory photo-op—but I bet most of the people that stopped at McGinn's did so because of it. We certainly did, and ended up buying souvenirs and pistachios before getting on the road again. The world needs more people like Thomas McGinn and his big dreams—and more novelty-sized roadside attractions to honor them.

Smokey Bear Historical Park

On our way back from a day spent sledding the dunes at White Sands National Monument during a recent New Mexico road trip, we weren't quite ready to call it quits for the day. My sister had mentioned that we were nearby Smokey Bear's grave, and even though we knew we weren't going to make it before the museum closed for the day, we still thought it was a worthwhile stop.

Smokey Bear was a real bear cub, originally called "Hotfoot," who was found by firefighters in 1950, badly injured after a fire in Lincoln National Forest. He was renamed Smokey, and came to represent the character that had been created during WWII to help educate campers on the dangers and destructive force of forest fires. Although he lived in the National Zoo in DC (alongside Ham the Astrochimp!), he was brought back to, and buried in Capitan, NM when he died in 1976. 

Of course I'd heard of Smokey Bear, but I'd never realized that he'd been modeled after a real bear. Ever since I visited my first pet cemetery, I've been eager to see as many not-exactly-traditional cemeteries and graves as I can—I was delighted to be able to add Smokey to that list. His grave is marked by a carved wooden bear cub and plaque, along a wooded path that includes statues, handpainted signs, beautiful flowers and at least one praying mantis (although I can't guarantee that last one will stick around). 

The park is such a good kitschy roadside stop—including a squished penny machine and fully-stocked gift shop that was maddeningly closed. The entire (very small) town of Capitan is very proud of its hometown hero—there's a Smokey motel, restaurant and even grocery store. Even if I'm forever disappointed to not be able to add a Smokey squished penny to my collection, I am glad we got to pay our respects to such an iconic figure.

Roswell: UFO McDonald's

My sister, brother-in-law and niece recently hit the road from Dallas, with our destination set at Roswell, New Mexico. We all knew that there wasn't that much to see in Roswell, but we had our hearts set on a kitschy, old fashioned, family vacation and Roswell turned out to be the perfect destination. Sure, downtown Roswell is basically one step up from a one-stoplight town, but there were plenty of alien-themed things to satisfy our need for kitsch.

One of our first stops was the UFO-themed McDonald's in the center of town. Along Roswell's main street (appropriately called Main Street) I counted no fewer than three McDonald's within a very short distance (in addition to three Subways and three Sonics), but only one is shaped like a UFO. Actually only a portion of the restaurant is UFO-shaped, but in a town that is begging for novelty, alien-themed architecture, we were grateful that someone had stepped up to the plate.

The inside is shiny and industrial, like any good UFO should be, but it's the space-themed McDonald's characters that really turn it up a notch. Maybe it was the formative years I spent working at a McDonald's as a teen, but I've always liked the strange cast, from Grimace (what is he!) to Birdie, to the Hamburglar, the Fry Kids and even Ronald. I don't recall the chicken nugget character, but I defy you to find anything cuter than an anthropomorphic nugget floating in a space bubble.

There's a great mural next to the drive-thru that we almost missed, featuring even more cute space nuggets, and a ufo painted in the parking lot in case you needed a spot to land yours. As great as it shines in the daylight, it's even better at night when it lights up, looking as if it's ready to take-off at any moment.

ALL CAPS EPIC ROAD TRIP OF DELIGHTS

I can't believe it's been two months since I flew back to Ohio to go on an ALL CAPS EPIC ROAD TRIP OF DELIGHTS. It felt as if JMP and I were planning the trip for ages and when the weekend finally came, it was over much too quickly. I even joked—before we left—that I almost didn't want to go on the trip, because then it would be over. I'm forever planning road trips, some of which I've taken, some of which will happen eventually, and some of which will probably never actually materialize, and that's ok. Planning a trip is one third of the fun for me, actually going on the trip is another third, and looking back on what I've done is the final third in the total enjoyment pie.

Even though I planned it and experienced it, it's still hard for me to believe that we crammed SO MANY DELIGHTS into 2.5 days. While I've devoted entire posts to a lot of the larger delights, it's really the sum of all of the parts—big and small—that made it so epically delightful.

As any proper road trip should, we started off Saturday morning by filling up on an insanely large—and cheap!—breakfast at a Waffle House. I love nothing more than a local, independent diner BUT a Waffle House just screams road trip to me (maybe it's the fact that they're at every single rest stop in the Midwest). After finishing our scattered and smothered breakfasts, we visited Willy the Whale and drove an hour to the Ohio State Reformatory. 

Along the way we spotted the Dalton Dari-ette, with a sign that I've always admired—and decided since it was ourroad trip and we made the rules that we'd stop and take photos. After the Reformatory we stopped for lunch at the Buckeye Diner, which is located in an old train car on the top of a hill, and despite being Ohio Buckeye-themed, was still charming.

After the field of giant corn cobs, and before we discovered Traders World, we pulled off the highway exclusively to visit what Roadside America described as a "Giant, Strange Ronald McDonald," which was definitely worth a visit. The address provided led us to the wrong place, until we realized that it was probably close to an actual McDonald's, which was correct.

After ice cream at The Cone we stayed overnight in Louisville. The next morning we fortified ourselves once again at a diner—the cute Twig and Leaf—that we chose based on signage alone. After taking an accidental but very awesome detour into Eastern Cemetery, we visited its neighbor Cave Hill Cemetery and paid our respects to Colonel Harland Sanders and the recently-interred Muhammed Ali.

Before leaving Louisville, we hunted down a Triceratops that had once been in the Sinclair Dinoland exhibit at the 1964/1965 World's Fair. I'd seen the T-Rex and the Apatosaurus in Texas and now I'm obsessed with hunting down all of the dinosaurs that remain. My heart sank when we realized that the Triceratops was in a parking lot that was closed on Sunday, but we made an impulse decision to (very quickly) sneak through the fence to get a closer look. I don't advocate breaking into private property, but it also seems shameful to keep such a wonderful piece of history hidden from view.

As we were eating chili dogs and ice cream served to us from a Barrel, we realized we had some time before we needed to check in at the Wigwam. I did a little poking around and discovered Kart Kountry, home of the World's Largest Go-Kart track and we knew it was a perfect addition to our itinerary. It was my first time riding go-karts and we had so much fun—we also played mini-golf and skee-ball and won enough tickets to get a crazy ball (which I promptly bounced into a fountain) and a trick foam ice cream cone.

After sleeping in a Wigwam—and before exploring abandoned Funtown Mountain—we drove through Cave City on our way to Dinosaur World and admired all of the beautiful motel signage. We ate breakfast at a restaurant that still had a smoking section—one that was full—and our waitress was not happy when we sat as far away from the cloud as we could.

We shopped for gifts at Tom's Tee-Pee, not quite as good as the TePee, but a worthy stop nonetheless. I think I was craving another road trip before this one even ended, and luckily my sister, brother-in-law, niece and I are all headed from Dallas to Roswell this weekend and I'm excited to get to explore an entirely new set of delights—even if I'm still basking in the glow of delights from the last trip.

Dinosaur World: Cave City, KY

After spending the night in a Wigwam, eating breakfast at a restaurant that still has a smoking section (it was full) and before we explored abandoned Funtown Mountain, there was Dinosaur World. There are three different Dinosaur Worlds, one in Florida, Texas and Kentucky. Cave City, Kentucky is located near Mammoth Cave Park and was obviously once a booming tourist town. There are still motels, gift shops and other attractions, but the whole town feels largely stuck in time.

Unlike Funtown Mountain across the street, Dinosaur World seems to be doing quite well—they're even open every single day except Christmas and Thanksgiving from 8:30am - 6pm. Dinosaur World features more than 150 life-sized dinosaurs set along an outdoor, wooded path. I read a review where someone complained that they weren't animatronic, but it was the low-tech nature of it all that appealed to me most.

I wouldn't consider myself to have an extensive knowledge of all things dinosaur-related, but I was blown away by how many different kinds of dinosaurs have been discovered. It's one thing to read about their different traits and sizes, but it's another thing entirely to see them up close and in person. Dinosaur World also has a "Mammoth Garden," and if there's one extinct species that we should try to resurrect, it should be the Wooly Mammoth.

Some of the dinosaurs looked predictably scary, but others looked so silly that they made me laugh. Nature is such a weird and wonderful thing, and it wasn't hard to draw connections between dinosaurs and modern-day creatures like birds and lizards. We'll probably never know what it's like to share the earth with dinosaurs like the ones we imagine, but a day at Dinosaur World was more than sufficient to quell that urge. And if all of the Jurassic Park movies are to be believed, resurrecting actual dinosaurs is most likely a terrible idea.

Muffler Man: Wilson's Carpet

Ever since I saw my first  (and second and third and fourth and fifth and sixth and seventh) Muffler Man, I've been obsessed with meeting every one I can. Roadside America has an invaluable map of known Muffler Man locations and I consult it wherever I'm going to make sure I don't miss one. I've known about the one in Jersey City for a while, but I just recently made it across the Hudson to finally see it in person.

The carpet-clutching Muffler Man stands outside of the entrance to Wilson's Carpet and Furniture under the Pulaski Skyway in Jersey City. Owner Norm Wilson bought the 25-foot-tall Bunyan figure in 1974 for $5,000. In 1998, the Muffler Man became legitimately famous when it was included in the opening credits of the Sopranos—something I didn't know about it until after I got home. He's definitely changed over the past eight years, and is in desperate need of a touch-up, but he's still clutching his signature steel "carpet" roll.

The electronic sign board appeared to be broken when I went, and a HUGE SALE!! banner hung in tatters from one of his hands. He stands on a base declaring "America is #1! Love it or leave it!" which feels a little bit too "Make America Great Again" for my tastes, even though I know it predates any Trump-related craziness. Wilson's is located on a very busy road, near the New Jersey turnpike, Hackensack river and elevated PATH train tracks. It's really not a pedestrian-friendly area, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from checking out my eighth (!!) Muffler Man. 

This Muffler Man gets the sad distinction of being in the worst condition of the eight I've seen—the paint is peeling from his pants, his carpet roll is rusting and his faded facial features create a greying, salt-and-pepper look. It was definitely a harrowing journey—despite being only less than nine miles from my Brooklyn apartment—but it was so very worth it.

---

Wilson's Carpet & Furniture
220 Broadway,
Jersey City, NJ 07306

Barrel of Fun

We had already planned to eat ice cream from an ice cream cone-shaped ice cream stand, but when I came across the Barrel of Fun in my roadtrip research, I couldn't resist adding it to our itinerary. We did visit them on separate days, but even if we hadn't, you can never have too much novelty architecture (or ice cream) in your life, in my opinion.

The Barrel of Fun is located in Okolona, a suburb of Louisville, Kentucky, in a residential neighborhood, next to a tiny strip of shops. The 12-foot-tall red, and white-striped barrel opened in 1994 by former plant worker Mark Beam and originally only sold ice cream. They've since expanded to included other standard roadside fare such as burgers and hot dogs.

By the time we arrived at the Barrel, we were ready for dinner, so I got a chili cheese dog (my first!) and a large dill pickle (my mouth waters at the memory). New York maybe clouding my judgement, but everything on the menu was insanely cheap (I can't remember exactly, but the chili dog was under $2). Is the Barrel of Fun something everyone should drive miles out of their way to see? Probably not. But it was a delightful, somewhat hidden, local gem, with average food that tasted slightly above average only because it was served to us from the inside of a 12-foot barrel.

Longaberger Basket

The last stop on our recent #ALLCAPSEPICROADTRIPOFDELIGHTS was the (now former) Longaberger Basket headquarters in Newark, Ohio. I have always appreciated novelty architecture, but I've become more and more obsessed with seeking out examples of it. The Longaberger Basket is just about perfect in the "buildlings shaped like what they contain" department, right up there with Twistee Treats, donut shops like Randy's Donuts and the Big Duck (the latter two are top of my wish list).

I've said it before, but the whimsy of novelty architecture is something that is sorely missing in most people's every day lives. Unless of course, you drive down Ohio's Route 16 frequently, which has a near-perfect view of the big basket. If you never find yourself in rural Ohio, know that you can creep on the basket from Google Earth, where—just like Willy the Whale—the basket and its adorable shadow can be viewed at any time.

The basket was completed in 1997 at the insistence of founder Dave Longaberger, and at what would turn out to be the peak of the company's success. Two years after the building's completion, Longaberger died. Due in part to changing decor tastes, sales of the expensive baskets began to decline, and the company stopped paying taxes on the basket in 2014. Longaberger currently owes $577,660 in property taxes, and in mid-July they relocated their remaining employees to a space at their nearby manufacturing plant. 

We arrived at the basket late in the day, and there were two cars in the parking lot but by all accounts the building already looked abandoned. The large side parking lots are overgrown, the flags out front are in shreds and from up close you can see that the exterior paint has begun to peel. Because the company is so behind on the taxes, the possibility exists that the basket will be seized and put up for auction, with the minimum bid set at around $570k. This might be a steal if the basket wasn't located in Newark, Ohio, or if it wasn't so costly to maintain—I read somewhere that the handles need to be heated in the winter to prevent ice from forming and crashing through the massive skylight. 

I knew the basket was big—seven stories with handles and brass tags 160 times the size of a standard Longaberger basket —but it's definitely something that needs to be seen and experienced in person. 

Although it was a bit out of our way, finally making it to the big basket was a total dream-come-true for me and the perfect way to end our already-perfect roadtrip. I'm interested to see how this next phase of the basket's life turns out, and I do hope that it lives on in some way. However, if it does happen to stay abandoned and fall further into disrepair, a return trip to Newark is a must—the only thing better than a seven-story, basket-shaped office building is an abandoned, seven-story, basket-shaped office building.

Bonus Basket! I couldn't resist making one last, last stop at the nearby Longaberger Homestead, home of the "World's Largest Apple Basket," which was hand-woven out of hardwood maple and stands more than 29 feet tall.

Muffler Man: Traders World

After visiting the field of giant corn cobs, and before treating ourselves to a cone (and a float) from The Cone, we were on the hunt for a Muffler Man. I had his location pinpointed on my map, but I had no idea that we were about to hit the roadside kitsch jackpot at the entrance to Traders World.

Traders World claims to be the "midwest's largest and most colorful flea market," and has been in Lebanon, Ohio for more than 30 years. It's pretty far south from where I grew up so I had never heard of it, despite my deep love of flea markets and roadside figurines. They have 16 buildings, 850 inside vendor spaces and 400 outdoor vendor spaces—sadly it was closed by the time we arrived, but it looked enormous.

Luckily, the grand entrance gates are flanked by not only the top-notch Muffler Man, but several other fiberglass animals and beautiful handpainted signs. I was so happy to be able to see yet another Muffler Man in person (my seventh!), and delighted beyond words to stumble upon all sorts of additional critters, who—despite the many signs—did not roar or bite once.