Bono's Historic Orange

Today is my friend Jim’s birthday (go say happy birthday to him!) and I’m missing him more than usual, so I’m coping by reliving a tiny portion of our Route 66 road trip from last year. When Jim moved to California, I was obviously bummed to be losing one of my best friends to the worst coast, but I was also excited to have a reason to visit (and a place to stay in) California. Arguably the mecca of quirky roadside attractions and novelty architecture, I’ve only been to CA twice, but my list of must-sees grows daily.

Bono's Historic Orange is one of six surviving orange-shaped buildings in California. It’s located in Fontana along a stretch of Historic Route 66, 45-minutes from The Donut Hole, and about 20-minutes fromt the Wigwam Motel. Bono's Italian Restaurant opened nearby in 1936 to supplement the revenue from the Bono family farm. The seven-foot-tall orange sits in front of the restaurant on the side of the road and thirsty travelers could buy a glass of orange juice for 10 cents.

The restaurant was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2008. In 2013, owner Joe Bono (he’s a cousin of Sonny Bono) received permission to move the building 20 feet from the street and said he had plans to reopen the restaurant and the orange stand, but both remained closed when we visited last year. I’m sad that I didn’t get to purchase something orange from the orange-shaped stand (probably my favorite thing to do, ever), but I’m happy that it survives at all.

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Bono’s Historic Orange
15395 E Foothill Blvd
Fontana, CA

Wigwam Village No. 6

I don't remember exactly when I discovered the Wigwam Villages, but I do remember that I was living in Ohio. I was living a life that was feeling less and less like my own, and I became fixated on the villages. I craved the freedom, joy and whimsy that they represented, but actually staying in one seemed unlikely. A road trip or flight required money, time and a willing companion, and at the time it felt as if I had none of those things. It seems silly and overdramatic to me now that I ever felt that way, but I've realized that when you're miserable in your daily life even the smallest goals can seem out of reach.

Fast-forward a few years and in 2016, I flew back to Ohio to hit the road with my friend JMP, a trip that culminated with a stay at my first Wigwam Village in Cave City, Kentucky. Of the seven original villages, only three remain (Cave City is number two). Even after sleeping in my first Wigwam, the other two still felt impossibly out of reach. But then my friend Jim moved to California, and I immediately began planning our stay at no. 7 in Rialto in December of last year. That left only one Wigwam Village—no. 6 in Holbrook, Arizona. 

JMP and I were already talking about an Arizona/New Mexico road trip earlier this year when Kaylah and Jeff graciously invited us to their wedding at Two Guns, which is less than an hour west of Wigwam Village no. 6. Just a few years ago staying at any of the Wigwam Villages seemed impossible to me—and in just two years I've managed to stay in all three.

My vacation goals (like South of the Border) might seem trivial now that I'm at the age when my Instagram feed is full of people traveling the world (or getting married, having kids, buying houses, etc.), but I try very hard to recognize and celebrate what will bring me the most joy, not what will be impressive to other people.

Arizona motel owner, Chester Lewis, visited Frank A. Redford's original Wigwam Village in Cave City, and bought the rights to his design. He also purchased the rights to use the name "Wigwam Village,"—as payment, Redford received every dime inserted into the coin-operated radios that Lewis placed in every room.

No. 6 was built in 1950, seven blocks west of downtown Holbrook, on old Route 66. The motel closed when Route 66 was bypassed in the late '70s, but remained in operation as a gas station. After Lewis died, his widow and children reopened the motel in 1988. The village has 15 wigwams (numbered 1-16 with no number 13), each containing one or two beds, a small bathroom, a TV and an air conditioner. 

No. 6 sits on a desolate stretch of old Route 66 filled with abandoned motels and restaurants. It's a testament to the owners and the design of the Wigwam Villages that it has remained in business. It's been listed on the National Register of Historic Places since 2002 and I can't think of one reason why you wouldn't want to Sleep in a Wigwam—or Sleepee in a Tee-pee, which is more accurate, but they're called wigwams because Redford, who patented the design in 1935, disliked the word 'teepee.'

If you've seen a photo taken at a Wigwam Village, chances are it was of no. 6. A distinguishing feature of this village is the parking lot, which is the permanent home to several vintage cars, including a Studebaker that once belonged to Lewis. There is still room to park your (probably) ugly, modern car, but the cars from the '30s-'70s really make you feel, even if just for a moment, like you've stepped back in time into the glory days of Route 66. 

There's always a mixture of excitement and sadness when I visit a place that I've been dreaming of, and that was definitely true when I completed my Holy Trinity of Wigwam Villages. To borrow from Joni Mitchell, although my "dreams have lost some grandeur coming true," I'm hopeful that there will be "new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty, before the last revolving year is through."

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Wigwam Village No. 6
811 W Hopi Drive,
Holbrook, AZ 86025

Lancaster County

I never thought this day would come, but I *think* this is the last post I can squeeze out of the four-day road trip that my mom and I took back in October. We made 30+ stops through eight states over four days—and I made sure that we were kept busy right up until the end. After touring the Haines Shoe House, we drove 30 minutes east through southern Pennsylvania to Amish country. Lancaster County has the largest Amish population in the world, followed closely by Holmes County in Ohio.

By this point in the trip I had mostly forgotten why I had put certain destinations on the map, so our stop at Hershey Farm Restaurant and Inn was just as much of a surprise for me as it was for my mom. When we pulled into the parking lot and spotted Amos—the barefoot Amish giant—I immediately remembered that he was the reason that I had put the Hersey Inn on my list. Amos, a 15-foot-tall fiberglass figure—similar to a Muffler Man—stood outside of Zinn's Diner in Denver, PA from 1969 until the diner was sold in 2003. 

Amos ended up at the The Heritage Center of Lancaster County, but he was too big for them to display, so he is currently "on loan" to the Hershey Farm Restaurant. Apparently the loan period was scheduled to end in 2009, but as of October 2017 Big Amos was still standing in the parking lot, near a pair of Amish buggies.  

Less than half a mile from the Hershey Restaurant, we happened upon another statue outside of the former Freeze and Frizz—now Katie's Corner restaurant. This one features an Amish boy (also barefoot) and two pigs. The boy holds an enormous twist ice cream cone, one pig holds a hamburger, and the other has a banana split. The statue has obviously seen better days, with several layers of paint visible beneath the peeling top layer, but it's just strange enough (and surprisingly large) to warrant a quick stop.

Located two miles from Katie's Kitchen is Dutch Haven, the official last stop on our epic road trip. Originally this windmill-topped building housed a Pennsylvania-Dutch style luncheonette. In 1946 it became Dutch Haven, which bills itself as the "largest Amish souvenir store in Lancaster County." In addition to selling furniture, t-shirts, candy, glassware and other "Amish stuff," Dutch Haven is also famous for their shoo-fly pie—they offer in-store samples and ship their pies anywhere in the country for a flat rate. I'm not crazy about shoo-fly pie (it tastes like a soggy brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tart?) but it's my friend Jim's favorite, so I got my money's worth by shipping one to him in California.

Dutch Haven made my list because of its novelty building, but I didn't expect it to also be a treasure trove of hand-painted signage and lettering. When I was a kid, I used to go to Ohio's Amish country frequently with my mom to do a little antiquing and a whole lot of cheese sampling, so Lancaster County was a fitting end to our short but mighty road trip. 

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Hershey Farm Restaurant and Inn
240 Hartman Bridge Rd
Ronks, PA 17572

Katie's Kitchen
200 Hartman Bridge Rd
Ronks, PA 17572

Dutch Haven
2857 E Lincoln Hwy A
Ronks, PA 17572

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Other stops on our road trip:

Muffler Man: Pink Pants // Muffler Man: Cowboy // Enchanted Forest // Hills of Snow // Muffler Man: Bunyan + Babe // Muffler Men: White's Tire // South of the Border: Night + Day // Dinosaur Land // Muffler Man: Homer // Divine // Chang and Eng // Main Street of Yesteryear // Shell Station // Haines Shoe House // World's Largest things // Grahamland // Aspin Hill Pet Cemetery

Randy's Donuts

When I went to California in December, I had an afternoon flight back to New York. I'm not one to waste time (on trips, at least) so with the help of my friend Tag, I was able to squeeze in a few more delights before I headed home. After diner breakfast, we headed toward the airport and luckily for me Randy's Donuts was on our way.

Built in 1953, Randy's Donuts is probably one of the most photographed and recognizable donut shops in the country. This iconic shop isn't shaped like a donut (like the Donut Hole) but is an otherwise unremarkable, small drive-through building with a walk-up window, topped with a huge donut. There are several other similar donut shops located all over LA, but Randy's has appeared in numerous movies, TV shows and music videos.

Randy's was built as part of the Big Donut Drive-in chain, the second of ten original locations. In 1976 it was purchased and renamed "Randy's Donuts and Sandwiches" after the new owner's son. The huge donut is constructed of rolled steel bars covered with grunite, a sprayed concrete used in swimming pools.

We were still full from breakfast so we didn't get a donut from Randy's, but I've been told that they're unremarkable. I have no doubt that Randy's is so famous because of its location—visible from the 405 and about three miles from LAX—but I'm always happy to see businesses like this thrive. Five of the original Big Donuts have been demolished, and one has been creatively turned into a bagel, but hopefully Randy's will keep providing donuts to tourists and locals alike—from inside of one of the best surviving examples of programmatic architecture—for many more years to come.

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Randy's Donuts
805 W Manchester Blvd
Inglewood, CA 90301

Spring Hill Dinosaurs

If you know anything about me, it shouldn't come as a surprise if we're ever driving somewhere and I gently suggest that I'd like to make a few quick stops along the way. While out for the day with David's parents on our recent trip to Florida, I told them that there were two dinosaurs on our route—actually directly on the way, which is sometimes a distinction I make rather loosely—and luckily they were more than happy to indulge my love of roadside novelties (thank you again, Jo Ann and Ken!). 

The first is actually a dinosaur-shaped building, and while we were lucky enough to be driving right past it, I would have made a special trip eventually just to see it because as I've said before, my love of novelty architecture knows no bounds. Harold's Auto Center, located on Commercial Way in Spring Hill, Florida, was built in 1964 as a Sinclair Oil gas station. Inspired by Sinclair's apatosaurus logo, the dinosaur-shaped structure is 47 feet tall and 110 feet long.

The dinosaur has been home to Harold's Auto Center, a family-owned auto maintenance shop, since 1977. Their website insists that "although we are inside a Dinosaur we stay up to date with what your vehicle needs." I do wish that—like the logo—the dinosaur was painted green, but I love his pimento-filled green olive eyes. I don't miss dealing with car maintenance, but if I did have a car, taking it to a shop shaped like a dinosaur would almost make the experience enjoyable.

A little more than three miles down Commercial Way is a second, smaller dinosaur measuring 22 feet high and 58 feet long. Known simply as the Spring Hill Dinosaur, this one isn't quite identifiable as a single species, but he is much more colorful than his neighbor down the road.

This roadside dinosaur was built in 1962 by taxidermist Jacob Foxbower to promote his family's wildlife museum, once located nearby. The museum closed in 1998, but the dinosaur remains, and this beloved local landmark looks as if it's just been refreshed with a new coat of Pepto-Bismol pink paint. 

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Harold's Auto Center
5299 Commercial Way
Spring Hill, FL 34606

Spring Hill Dinosaur
US-19 (3.3 miles south of Harold's on the west side of the street)
Spring Hill, FL 34606

Cabazon Dinosaurs

I can't remember the first time I saw Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (it came out the year I was born, 1985), but I do remember being a huge fan of Pee-Wee's Playhouse as a kid. It wasn't until a rewatch of the movie recently that I realized just how much of an influence Pee-Wee Herman must have had on my general aesthetic. In the opening sequence he has a skull hanging over his bed, he brushes his teeth with a novelty toothbrush, he has oversized utensils, his breakfast has a face and his yard is full of fiberglass statues. His house is literally my dream house. 

Second only to the Wigwam Motel, the top destination for my California trip with my friend Jim was the Cabazon Dinosaurs. I love dinosaur parks (I've been to Dinosaur World in KY and Dinosaur Land in VA) and the added Pee-Wee pedigree made the Cabazon Dinosaurs a must-see. Pee-Wee is dropped off by Large Marge in front of the dinosaurs and he and the waitress from a nearby diner share their dreams inside of Mr. Rex's mouth (the mouth in the movie was most definitely a set—it's much smaller in real life).

Dinny the Dinosaur and Mr. Rex are located west of Palm Springs, about two-and-a-half hours from Los Angeles. Claude Bell started constructing the dinosaurs in 1964, hoping to drive traffic to his nearby diner, The Wheel Inn. Dinny, the 150-foot-tall brontosaurus was completed first, in 1975 and Mr. Rex, a 65-foot-tall T-Rex was completed in 1985. Bell died in 1988 at age 91, and the property remained with his family until the mid '90s. 

Inside of Dinny is a gift shop (the souvenirs were disappointing) and it's also where you purchase tickets to Mr. Rex’s Dinosaur Adventure, an add-on attraction featuring more than 50 dinosaur figures, a fossil dig and access to Mr. Rex. You can see the outside of both dinosaurs without paying admission, but it's definitely worth the $12 to survey the site from behind Mr. Rex's huge teeth (there is also a squished penny machine in a second gift shop located within the Dinosaur Adventure attraction). 

Despite having seen photos of these dinosaurs for years on Instagram, seeing them in person was still so much better than I even expected it to be. We went early in the morning so it wasn't overrun with children, and later in our hotel room we watched Pee-Wee's Big Adventure and I had such a new appreciation for the Cabazon scenes. The one major disappointment, however is that The Wheel Inn closed in 2013. It sat abandoned for a few years before being recently demolished. When we went all that remained of the landmark diner was a pile of rubble and I'm sad that I'll never be able to walk in and say "Large Marge sent me." 

Wigwam Village No. 7

When I slept in my first Wigwam Motel in 2016, I didn't have concrete plans to visit the two remaining Wigwam Villages, but I knew I wanted to eventually "collect them all." Early in 2017, I was devastated when it became obvious that my friend Jim was going to move to LA, but I tried to look on the bright side and immediately began planning a trip to the west coast. It should come as no surprise that the very first thing on my list of California must-sees was Wigwam Village No. 7 on Route 66 in San Bernardino.

Originally there were seven Wigwam Village locations—two in Kentucky and one each in Alabama, Florida, Arizona, Louisiana and California—and only the ones in Kentucky, Arizona and California have survived. No. 7, constructed in 1949, is the last one to be built and it sits on the boundary between San Bernardino and Rialto, on Historic Route 66. 

Although of course No. 2 will always be special to me as my first Wigwam experience, No. 7 was overall an even nicer experience. No. 7 has a double row of Wigwams—19 total—and it had once been in dire shape. Rooms could be rented by the hour, and a sign urging travelers to "Do it in a Teepee" hung out front (the fact that these structures are technically "tee pees" doesn't seem to have mattered to Frank A Redford, the builder of these villages). It has since undergone an extensive renovation, and in 2012 it was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. 

No. 7 has a small, kidney-shaped pool and better souvenirs than No. 2—we bought postcards, patches, pins, ornaments and key tags. There are several vintage cars sitting on the property and a circular base in the back that looks like it may have been destined to be a 20th Wigwam, but it was never finished.

The inside of each Wigwam is surprisingly spacious, and ours had two beds, a tv and a desk. I did prefer the bathroom of No. 2—with its red zig-zag tiles—but the Wigwams at No. 7 looked freshly painted, and the iconic zig-zag on the exterior was brought back during the renovation. I also appreciated all of the little details, like the lights strung between Wigwams, the Route 66 markers on the lampposts and the Wigwam-shaped room numbers. In an area full of cheap and boring roadside motels, I don't know why anyone would choose not to "sleepee in a tee-pee."

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Wigwam Village No. 7
2728 E Foothill Blvd
San Bernardino, CA 92410
Our 2/bed was $99 for a Saturday night in December

The Donut Hole

On the first day of our recent mini California road trip, we were driving down Route 66 en route to the Wigwam Motel in Rialto. I left our itinerary open for a leisurely drive, but when I realized that we were just about 20 min away from The Donut Hole, we decided it was worth the short detour.

The Donut Hole was built in 1968 in La Puenta, California, about 30 minutes east of downtown LA. The iconic building is programmatic, or novelty architecture at its best: two huge wood and stucco donuts with a drive-through donut shop in between. You go in one donut hole, out the other and it's both a sign and building in one (like The Big Duck or Orange World or this Shell Station).

There is no mistaking what you'll be buying at The Donut Hole, and while this was the second of five locations it was the only one built to resemble donuts—and not coincidentally, the only one still in business. It's also apparently one of the most photographed donut shops in the country, and although the donuts we bought were good, the building itself is definitely the main attraction.

Haines Shoe House

One of the last stops on our recent road trip, was the Haines Shoe House in York, Pennsylvania. The Shoe House is only about 3.5 hours from New York City, but it had never really been on the way to or from anywhere I'd traveled before. Since I was in complete control of our route this time—and because the trip was the destination—I made sure that we wound down the trip on a high note.

The Haines Shoe House is exactly what it sounds like—a shoe-shaped house—built by local shoe salesman Mahlon Haines in 1948. It's modeled after a Haines work boot, which he allegedly handed to his architect with the instructions "build me a house like this." The Shoe House was never a private residence, but functioned as an advertisement for his business, and was once highly visible from the main road and surrounding areas (a precursor to the Longaberger Basket headquarters). The 25-foot, five-story house was rented to couples, some of whom were newlyweds that won the opportunity to stay to for their honeymoon (along with a free pair of shoes!).

The house has two bedrooms, a living room, an eat-in kitchen and room for a maid and a butler. There are shoe details everywhere you look—stained glass shoe windows, a stained glass portrait of Haines, the "Shoe Wizard" himself, shoe-shaped planters and wooden shoe cutouts on the fences.

There are two miniature replicas of the house on the property—a dog house and a mailbox—and the house's official address is 197 Shoe House Road. I was doing a good job of keeping each destination a secret from my mom, who wanted to be surprised, but this one was prematurely revealed when the GPS instructed us to turn onto "Shoe House Road."

The Shoe House was recently purchased by locals Jeff and Melanie Schmuck, and Melanie was our (excellent) tour guide. She said that she grew up nearby, had always loved the Shoe House and was frustrated by the previous owner's inconsistent operating hours. When the house came up for sale, they jumped at the chance to buy it and have been trying to restore the house and its furnishings to its original condition ever since. There's an ice cream parlor in the heel (once a drive-through car port) and a small gift shop with "shoe"venirs (I just made that up, but Melanie, if you're reading this, feel free to use it).

Aside from being a standout addition to my "collection" of roadside novelty architecture, our visit was even more special because of Melanie and her enthusiasm for the Shoe House. She didn't have to explain to us why it was a necessity that her and her husband purchase the Shoe House, but I'm always happy to meet other people that appreciate the strange and find value in maintaining something that makes the world just a tiny bit more whimsical.

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Haines Shoe House
97 Shoe House Road,
York, PA 17406
Hours:
First Day of Spring - Memorial Day: Fri, Sat, Sun 11-5
Memorial Day - Labor Day: Wed - Sun 11-5
Labor Day - Halloween: Fri, Sat, Sun 11-5
Closed Easter Sunday, Memorial Day and Labor Day.

Shell Station

My love of novelty architecture knows no bounds, and I knew I had to figure out a way to see the last remaining clamshell-shaped Shell gas station on our recent road trip through North Carolina. The Shell station was so important to me, that it dictated the route for the second half of our trip, and although it was a quick stop it was definitely worth seeing in person. 

Eight clamshell-shaped stations were originally built in the 1930s by Quality Oil, a Winston-Salem based distributor of Shell oil. The stations were made of concrete stucco over a wood and wire frame, similar to the Big Duck. The last remaining station is located in a residential neighborhood in Winston-Salem, and it remained open as a gas station until the '50s. In the '70s and '80s it was repurposed as a lawn mower repair shop and restored in the '90s by Preservation North Carolina. Today it's used as an office and information center by the society, but it was closed when we visited. 

I logically understand why buildings like this often become obsolete, but they're just so charming and whimsical I can't help but wish that novelty architecture would make a comeback. Life can get monotonous and boring—all phone calls and paperwork—but novelty architecture rebels against that reality and presents an alternative. Very few people would say that stopping to fill up their car brings them joy, but it would be hard not to smile when you're pulling up to a giant clamshell. 

Bonus whimsy! After we saw the clamshell, my mom and stopped for lunch at a Dairi-O, located in nearby King, NC. Dairi-O started serving hamburgers and milkshakes out of a stand in King in 1947, and the location currently has a giant milkshake (with two straws!) for its entrance. When we pulled up, there was this perfect, vintage car parked out front and we assumed that it was always there—until two customers finished their meals, got in and drove away right after I took this photo.

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Shell Station
1111 E Sprague Street
Winston-Salem, North Carolina 27107

Dairi-O
365 East Dalton Road
King, North Carolina 27021

Hills of Snow

We didn't see any Twistee Treats on our recent road trip, but we did eat a snowball served to us out of a building shaped like one, and it was a definite trip highlight. Hills of Snow, located in Smithfield, North Carolina, doesn't actually call their confections "snow cones," but just, "snow."

Opened in 1984 by Tom Hill (hence the name), the Hills of Snow building wasn't always shaped like it is now. It was originally just a regular structure, but a few years after opening, Hill personally built the snowball-and-cup-shaped building. There are also two smaller, mobile versions that sit in the parking lot behind the Big Ball (the family's name for the main structure) when they're not on the move.

I am literally never happier than when I'm eating or buying something from a building shaped like what it sells. I am absolutely obsessed with novelty architecture and I've managed to see a lot of the greats recently: Lucy the Elephant, the Big Duck, the Longaberger Basket, Orange World and—on this same trip—the Haines Shoe House and a Shell Gas Station. Hills of Snow probably isn't as well-known or historical as some of the others, but I love when people are clearly passionate about their products and don't take life too seriously.

The "snow" that you get from Hills of Snow is lighter, softer and fluffier than traditional shaved ice or granular snow cones. All of the syrups are made onsite—when they first opened they offered 20 flavors but now advertise 101 different choices. They serve "snow creams" (topped with sweetened condensed milk) and seasonal flavors, but I went with my standard lemon/cherry combo. It was delicious on its own, but even more so because it came from a building shaped like itself.

Twistee Treats

I used to live just minutes from three separate Twistee Treat locations in Ohio, but I didn't really fully appreciate them until I moved 450 miles away. One was even located in the parking lot of the grocery store, where I shopped at least once a week—and I only ever stopped for ice cream once. I actually never did much in Ohio when I was actually living in Ohio, but after I moved away I've now seen Twistee Treats in Niagra Falls, southern Ohio and even revisited the ones in my old neighborhood. 

Twistee Treat is a relatively new entry into the novelty architecture canon— the corporate chain was founded in 1983 in North Fort Myers, Florida. Because of its origins, Florida is still lousy with the iconic ice-cream-shaped buildings, and I knew we had to stop at at least one on our recent Florida trip. 

This isn't a problem I usually encounter with roadside attractions, but there are almost too many Twistee Treats in Florida, especially around the Orlando area. Thankfully, I was able to do some research via Google Maps, and I virtually traveled to each one, searching for a stand-out. Most of the cones look very similar, and in fact all of the corporate stores are marked with their trademark chocolate dip and tiny, LED sprinkle lights. The original Twistee Treat company actually went bankrupt in the 90s, but new companies bearing the name and patents for the buildings were formed. There are still some privately owned stands operating, and new cones are still being produced.

I had focused my research to the Orlando/Kissimmee area, figuring that we'd be down for an ice cream treat somewhere between shopping at Orange World and our adventures in Gatorland. When I found a Twistee Treat with large, pastel sprinkles (or SPRANKLES, as I noted on my Google Map) I knew that I had found the winner. 

But before we even got there, we happened upon yet another Twistee Treat when we stopped for lunch—about a mile away from the sprinkle cone (apparently Twistee Treats are to Florida what Starbucks stores are to New York). This one was the corporate design, appeared to be brand new and wasn't open until later in the afternoon but I'll never tire of just being in close proximity to such delightful novelty architecture. 

We finally did make it to the sprinkle cone (where I got ... a sprinkle cone) and although the light was in the very wrong spot (a problem we seemed to have all day), I will always be at my happiest when I'm making a purchase from a building shaped like what it contains.

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Twistee Treat Kyngs Heath
2952 Vineland Rd
Kissimmee, FL 34746

Twistee Treat of Kissimmee (large sprinkles)
4722 W Irlo Bronson Memorial Hwy
issimmee, FL 34746

Orange World

We just got back from a quick trip to Florida, and the number one thing on my must-see list was Orange World. We were staying with my dude's parents in Bradenton (thank you Jo Ann and Ken!) which isn't exactly close to Orange World, but as I've said before, my love of novelty architecture knows no bounds.

Orange World, or "The Big Orange" as I've taken to calling it, is a gift shop and roadside citrus stand, and it's shaped like a huge orange. It's so big, in fact, that they say it's the World's Largest Orange—although technically it's only half of an orange. The man at the counter explained that the building was originally just circular with a flat top. Allegedly the owner was eating at the Waffle House next door and looking at the building when he had the idea to build the orange on top—after the addition was completed, business tripled overnight.

The area used to be surrounded by orange groves, but is now full of hotels and gift shops catering to the Disney overflow. Orange World is just one of several huge gift shops on Route 192 in Kissimmee, but it's definitely the most memorable.

Update: Look how cute it looks from Google Earth (who knew it had leaves and a stem!):

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.

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.

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.

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.