Muffler Man: Bunyan + Babe

Next up on the roster of Muffler Man we saw on our recent road trip is one of the Paul Bunyan varieties. This dapper lumberjack once stood outside of Stan the Tire Man in Salem, Illinois, but was moved to Battleboro, North Carolina in 2007. While in Illinois, he was accompanied by a UniRoyal Gal but she was sold and moved to California when Stan the Tire Man closed in 2015.

After he was moved to NC, this Bunyan traded his Gal for a Babe—Babe the Blue Ox, from the Paul Bunyan legend. The first Muffler Man I ever saw was a Bunyan-type at the Magic Forest, in Lake George, NY and I've seen a few more of the style since. Even though the thing I love most about Muffler Men is their ability to be customized and that they all look different as a result, the Bunyan is what I think of when I think of the quintessential Muffler Man.

This gentleman is wearing a knit cap and holding an axe—similar to the World's Fair giant we saw, also in Lake George—but I can't for the life of me figure out what is in Babe's mouth (my mom said, "is that an e-cigarette?"). They stand guard over the Original Log Cabin Homes sales center, and you can see them best while driving south on 1-95. We parked and walked right up to them, and although no one said anything to us, we did see a lady come out of the office ... and walk back inside when she realized we were more interested in Bunyan and Babe than in purchasing a log cabin home. 

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Original Log Cabin Homes
7677 N Halifax Road
Battleboro, NC 27809
A little tricky to get to, but no one seemed to mind us walking through the property

Enchanted Forest

Ever since my life-changing visit to the Magic Forest in Lake George, NY I have been obsessed with storybook parks. At one time they were popular attractions all over the country, but they're definitely past their prime and just a fraction still remain in operation. Kids today want fast rides and flashy screens, not big shoes and the three little pigs.

Luckily, there are people like the owners of Clark's Elioak Farm, a 219-year-old farm in Ellicott City, Maryland. The nearby Enchanted Forest opened in 1955, and closed in the '90s. Over the years, the Clark family has purchased many of the pieces and installed them on their farm. I'm not sure how many pieces are missing from the original Forest (if any), but it certainly feels as if the farm is now more Enchanted Forest than actual farm—which is exactly what I was hoping to find.

I can't articulate exactly why these places hold such appeal for me—I don't recall ever visiting one as an actual kid—but I love any place that feels untouched by the passage of time. Sure, technology is great, but so is artistry and these figures and structures have a tangible, handmade, interactive quality that you just can't get from a screen. My very favorites were the Old Woman's Shoe (aka my future), Willie the Whale (my second Willy!) and Little Toot—because everything is better with face.

Almost all of the figures and structures are in excellent shape, and have been repaired, refurbished and repainted since landing at the farm. Despite having some repeat figures and themes, Clark's feels different than the Magic Forest—less creepy and probably closer to how these parks felt in their glory days. My mom pointed out the incongruity of my distaste for children and my love of all things child-like—aka, my life struggle—but we visited on a Thursday afternoon and the farm was (blissfully) deserted.  

There is an actual "Enchanted Forest" section in the farm, a wooded maze that takes you past characters and scenes from notable fairy tales. I wonder if kids today (spoken like the 80-year-old woman I am) even recognize any of these stories, like The Tortoise and the Hare or Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater. I'm still wondering about the large sombrero, the lone dinosaur and the alien/elf named Howie (??), but in my experience, things don't need to make complete sense to still be thoroughly enjoyed.

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Clark's Elioak Farm
10500 Clarksville Pike
Ellicott City, MD 21042
Open April 1-November 5
Tues-Fri: 10am-5pm, Sat-Sun: 10am-5:30pm

Muffler Man: Cowtown Cowboy

It's Muffler Man Monday—at least for a little while since we saw so many on our recent road trip. They're all so wonderful and unique, so each deserves to be profiled separately. Up next: this lovely cowboy gentleman was our second stop in New Jersey, about 40 min from the Pink Pants-wearing Muffler Man. 

This cowboy variety is 22-feet tall, and wears a Stetson hat, holster and pistol. Bought at an auction in the '70s, he has been standing outside of the Cowtown Rodeo and Farmers' Market ever since. In the early 2000's, the cowboy's top half blew off during a windstorm, leaving just the pants standing. He was repaired, and is now reinforced at the waist and looks freshly painted.

One of the first things I noticed about this Muffler Man is that he isn't holding anything in his outstretched hands. A lot of the others I've met are similarly unadorned, but this one seemed to actively be missing something. Turns out I was right—he used to hold a lariat rope, but it was removed after people kept swinging on it (people ruin everything). 

Bonus fiberglass attraction! Every cowboy needs a cow, and this red bull (with an udder??) stands nearby the Muffler Man, right in front of the (likely hyperbolic) sign that proclaims that Cowtown is "often imitated, never equaled."

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Cowtown Rodeo and Farmers' Market
780 Harding Hwy
Pilesgrove, NJ 08098
Easily Accessible

Muffler Man: Pink Pants

My mom and I just got back from an epic road trip through nine states over four days. When I started planning the road trip, I knew that our main destination was roadside mecca South of the Border, but I also knew that the point of the trip was the journey. I planned nearly 30 stops along the way there and back and we hit almost all of them. 

If you were following along on my Instagram stories, it may have seemed like we were on a Muffler Man scavenger hunt—we saw five official Muffler Men, in addition to three UniRoyal Gals and numerous other fiberglass sculptures. My mom saw her first Muffler Man (and first UniRoyal Gal) on our trip to Atlantic City last year and she's now just as obsessed as I am. 

Our very first stop after picking up our rental car at Newark Airport was this Muffler Man in pink pants and suspenders at Royal Tire and Auto in Magnolia, New Jersey. I love his coloring and that he's holding a tire—it's a regular size tire but it looks tiny in his huge hands. My mom pointed out his veiny forearms arms, and I'm always wowed by the detail and care that go into making and maintaining these roadside giants. 

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Royal Tire and Auto of Magnolia
301 N White Horse Pike
Magnolia, NJ 08049
Easily accessible

World's Largest Cuckoo Clock

After exploring Achor Valley Cemetery and refueling at the Steel Trolley Diner, I headed to Sugarcreek, Ohio to see the World's Largest Cuckoo Clock. Sugarcreek, or the "Little Switzerland of Ohio," is part of a few towns that growing up we just referred to as Amish Country due to their large Amish and Mennonite populations. We used to take day trips there all the time when I was a kid and my mom had a crafts business—I've always loved any place where you can sample myriad dips, cheeses and chocolates.

The World's Largest Cuckoo Clock was built in 1972, and featured on the cover of the Guinness Book of World Records in 1977. It appears as if other clocks have since eclipsed its "World's Largest" status, but it's probably the biggest one I'll ever see and is certainly the biggest one in Ohio. The clock was commissioned by the family that ran the Alpine Alpa Restaurant, in Wilmont Ohio, and the clock was moved to Sugarcreek when the restaurant closed in 2009. The working clock is 23 feet tall and 24 feet wide and on the half hour a cuckoo bird pops out along with a Swiss polka band and a dancing couple.

Luckily, I arrived with only a few minutes to spare until 3pm and downtown was deserted on a Monday afternoon. Of course about 30 seconds before the hour, people seemingly emerged from nowhere to watch the clock, but I was still able to get a (mostly) unobstructed video of the clock working its magic.

I have a problem keeping clocks in my apartment because the ticking drives me insane, but I've always loved cuckoo clocks. They're whimsical, intricately carved works of art and their mechanics fascinate me. I once bought a cuckoo clock as a Christmas gift and kept it in the trunk of my car. Not realizing that it would still work fully (no electricity or batteries required), it cuckoo'd while its intended recipient was in the car and the surprise was (hilariously) ruined.

Sugarcreek is a tiny town but it's full of Swiss-style buildings with beautifully painted facades. A handful of the businesses even have scenes that include moving parts—like a train going through the snowy mountains—that have always reminded me of the mountain climber in the Cliffhangers game on the Price is Right. 

World's Largest Teapot

Before my recent trip to Ohio, my uncle emailed me to tell me that if I had time, I should go to Chester, West Virginia to see the World's Largest Teapot. I feel like a hack that I had no idea that the World's Largest Teapot was located just 1.5 hours from my hometown, but I'm happy that I got to visit it so soon after being alerted to its existence. 

The World's Largest Teapot wasn't always a teapot—it started out its life as a wooden root beer barrel for Hire's Root Beer. William Devon purchased the barrel in 1938, added the spout, handle and covered it in tin. The teapot stood in front of Devon's teapot store, and it was set up to sell souvenirs and concessions. 

It transferred hands a few times throughout the years, but remained open until it was abandoned in the 1980s. In the early 90s, the telephone company that owned the land offered the teapot to the town of Chester (just over the border from East Liverpool, Ohio), and it was restored and moved to its current location. 

The teapot is approximately 14' high by 14' wide, and sits next to the Jennings Randolph Bridge Ramp, at the junction of State Route 2 and U.S. Route 30. Because its in the middle of a high-traffic area, it's a bit hard to get to—you have to park at the gas station across the street and dart across traffic. My grandma didn't really understand why we would drive so far to see a big roadside teapot—and I wish it still sold souvenirs and concessions (candy, hotdogs and pop) or that you could go inside of it like The Big Duck—but I definitely think it was worth the trip.

Muffler Man: BP

Usually, when I say that I don't have plans, I'm lying. I am an obsessive planner by nature. I would never, ever describe myself as "spontaneous," although I'd like to think that I'm still easy-going and not impossibly rigid—as long as everything goes exactly how I imagine it will in my head. I spend countless hours thinking about and planning adventures—big and small—so it's rare that I find myself completely without agenda. 

Our recent day trip upstate to Beacon, NY was somewhat spur-of-the-moment by my usual standards, but I still had some ideas (like the abandoned cemetery). In fact, when I told David that we should take a day trip on a day we both had off work for Passover, I began by saying "should I pretend that I don't already have a trip planned or just tell you where I want to go?" This probably makes me sound bossy and horrible but let's just call me opinionated and organized. 

We had planned to take the Metro North to Beacon, but at the last minute decided that a Zipcar would be only slightly more expensive when split between the two of us. I adore public transportation and train travel more than anyone probably should, but the control-freak in me can't pass up the freedom that comes with having a car—and if I don't have to actually drive it, even better. 

Once it was decided that we would drive, I immediately started thinking of possible stops along the way. Beacon isn't far from the city (about a two-hour drive) but any trip I take is as much about the stops along the way as it is about the final destination. My first thought was an upstate Muffler Man that has been on my radar ever since I researched our first Sleepy Hollow trip, and that meant he was on our way to Beacon as well. 

This Muffler Man (my 13th!) is located in Elmsford, NY at a BP gas station. He looks as if he's been fairly well-maintained, despite the fact that he's missing both of his arms. His left arm looks as if it may have broken off, while his right arm may have been intentionally removed to fit him snugly next to the price sign. His feet are partially buried in the dirt, and he's painted BP yellow and green (even his eyes match!). I'm very grateful to have found a roadtrip partner who not only loves to drive, but who doesn't mind stopping once and while to make new friends. 

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BP Muffler Man
135 N Saw Mill River Rd
Elmsford, NY 10523

Gatorland

While I was planning our recent trip to Florida, I became intent on visiting Orange World. The big, orange-shaped gift shop is located in Kissimmee, which is about an hour and 45 minutes from where we were staying. While I'm certainly not opposed to driving or walking long distances for things many people would call silly, I thought it just made sense to find other attractions in the Orlando area. Of course Orlando is Disney country, but we chose to spend our time at an amusement park that is much more my speed—Gatorland. 

Gatorland, which claims to be the "Alligator Capital of the World," is a theme park and wildlife preserve in Orlando. It was founded in 1949 and has been owned by the same family ever since. It's sort of like a zoo—with several species of birds roaming the property including peacocks and flamingos in addition to a snake exhibit and several sizes and colors of alligators and crocodiles. 

Gatorland is famous for its collection of leucistic alligators, which appear white due to a partial loss of pigmentation (not the same thing as being an albino, although they have one of those too). They also put on shows: Up-close Encounters, an animal show-and-tell; Gator Wrestlin'; and the Gator Jumparoo, which features gators jumping in the air to catch food off of a clothesline.

We skipped the Up-Close Encounters show, but we saw Gator Wrestlin' and the Gator Jumparoo, which they repeat several times a day. Our shows were entertaining, and while it's hard to tell what's an act and what's real, they still managed to be both suspenseful and surprising. 

I had actually been to Gatorland once before, when I was younger, but I'm glad I got to go back and appreciate the park as a roadside-attraction-loving adult. Gatorland feels like an amusement park from the 40s, and I mean that very much as a compliment. Just like its Mold-a-Rama machines—Gatorland has two!—Gatorland is low-tech but thrilling in its own, charming, Old Florida way.

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Gatorland 
14501 S. Orange Blossom Trail
Orlando, FL 32837
Open daily from 10:00AM to 5:00PM

Cathedral Buffet

When I booked my recent trip back to Ohio, I initially didn't know that it was for Easter weekend. I was bummed to miss the Fifth Avenue Easter "parade," which has become one of my favorite events to photograph, and my family doesn't really have any solid Easter traditions beyond getting together to eat. However, when my Uncle mentioned recently that my grandma approves of eating at just two restaurants—Chinese Buffet and Cathedral Buffet—a light bulb went off. We could go to Cathedral Buffet for Easter brunch—a place that could not only feed us physically, but spiritually.

We aren't by any means a religious family, but I do worship at the altar of weird and Cathedral Buffet (and its parent organization, Ernest Angley Ministries) has fascinated me for years. Angley's interdenominational ministry was originally based southeast of Akron, but moved to Cuyahoga Falls in 1994, after purchasing a large complex formerly owned by televangelist Rex Humbard. The complex includes a large cathedral, television studios and banquet hall, which is home to the Cathedral Buffet.

When I was confirming that the buffet was open on Easter, I came across an entry on Roadside America specifically for the Cathedral Buffet and its Life of Christ displays. Formerly unbenownst to me, the basement of the buffet is home to thirteen miniature dioramas, described as "a three-dimensional experience for the whole family." Sculpted by Paul Cunningham, a self-taught artist from Nebraska, the dioramas depict "detailed scenes from the earthly life of our Lord."

The figures in the dioramas were sculpted from clay and then molded from plastic and carved by hand. The scenes feature realistic nature and material elements including rice paper flowers, linen clothing, and etched brass leaves. But the main reason why I was so excited to see the dioramas was the fact that "human fingernails were used on many of the figures to give the display a 'living' quality."

It turns out that only three out of probably a hundred figures actually have real human fingernails—as their toenails—as far as we could tell. I went for the fingernails, of course, but I have to admit that the displays are definitely something. They're not necessarily masterpieces, per se, but they're incredibly detailed and were obviously crafted with passion. Some of the figures are more skillfully rendered than others, and the style is a bit uneven but the overall effect is definitely worth the dollar we donated for admission.

I can't believe I lived in the town neighboring Cuyahoga Falls for 23 years of my life without ever hearing about the dioramas, but I'm so glad that I finally got the entire Cathedral Buffet experience. And it turns out that we couldn't have picked a better time to go—two days after Easter the Cathedral Buffet closed, presumably for good.

Ernest Angley Ministries has been involved in a number of scandals over the years, including allegations of sex abuse and even a murder involving two Cathedral Buffet workers. But it was a recent lawsuit and eventual judgement against the church for not paying its workers that was the buffet's ultimate downfall—Angley was ordered to pay nearly $400,000 in back wages and damages to former employees.

Officials from the church claim that "the restaurant always kept its prices low for families; it never made a profit; and the restaurant can’t run without volunteers." While the buffet's fate seems grim, I wonder what will become of the dioramas—and I still can't figure out exactly where they got all of those fingernails.

The World's Largest Miniature Circus

On our recent trip to Florida, we took a day trip to Sarasota to visit The Ringling. John Ringling was one of five "Ringling Brothers." He wisely invested his profits from The Greatest Show on Earth, making him one of the richest men in America in the 1920s. The Ringling comprises several different properties and museums, including John's house, Ca’ d’Zan, a huge art museum, gardens, and the circus museum, which houses The World's Largest Miniature Circus.

The 3,800 square foot Howard Bros. Circus model is "a 44,000-piece re-creation of the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus combined shows from 1919-1938." The model is the life's work of Howard Tibbals and is crafted to an exact 3/4-inch-to-the-foot scale.

Tibbals has been working on the model for more than 50 years, and it includes everything you'd expect to see at a circus and probably much, much more. There are billboards and trains; trapeze artists and barbers; general stores and ice cream stands; elephants and zebras and tigers; clowns and ticket booths—and of course a big top.

I have always loved miniatures—I even bought a book on how to make them when I was younger so I could make my own for a dollhouse that never materialized. My only complaint about this marvel is that you can't possibly see it all, and I'm sure so much of the fine detail goes unnoticed. The overall effect is incredible—there's even a viewing platform so you can get the bird's eye view. I'm so grateful the world includes people like Howard Tibbals, who really understand that the biggest joys can be found in even the smallest of things.

Linger Lodge

The Linger Lodge, a restaurant and campground located in Bradenton, Florida, claims to be "Old Florida at its Best." On our recent trip to Florida, I was intent on having dinner at the Lodge, and knew it was either going to be strange or very strange. Started in 1945 as a campground, the Lodge is full of taxidermy—mostly roadkill—some pieces are good, some pieces are bad and some pieces are so bad that they're great.

It's worth visiting the Linger Lodge for the menu alone. There's an entire page devoted to the roadkill offerings, and it should tell you something about the Lodge that it took us a while to realize that it was a joke (I think??). Offerings include Tummy Teasers such as "Chunk of Skunk" and "Swirl of Squirrel," entrees such as "Center Line Bovine" and "The Chicken (that didn't cross the road),"—but my favorite was definitely "Poodles 'n Noodles."

The Lodge is very proud of their "rare and unusual "Florida Animals"' collection, including a Jackalope, Alaskan Fur Fish and the Walking Catfish. I like taxidermy and I love bad taxidermy, but I'm obsessed with made-up taxidermy. The Linger Lodge was exactly as strange as I wanted it to be and I'm so glad that this Old Florida gem is still around.

Linger Lodge: 7205 85th St Ct E, Bradenton, FL 34202

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Oh, hi!

Welcome to the new Only Living Girl in New York! I hope you enjoy the new site as much as I do! I've reorganized things, making it easier to sort by categories to find what you're interested in—they're listed at the top of each post and in the sidebar—and you can find even more specific tags listed at the bottom of each post, along with related posts. I've also added about and contact pages, if you're into that.

Some of the links are still acting up and not every post has a thumbnail image yet, but I'm really excited about the new look—stay a while, poke around and enjoy your virtual road trip!

Never miss an adventure! Follow along with Bloglovin'

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.

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!):

Muffler Man: Chief Running Fair

While I was planning our recent trip to see The Big Duck, I checked Roadside America's invaluable Muffler Man map and found that there was a Muffler Man nearby.  I hadn't seen a Muffler Man since last October (the Happy Halfwit at Mr. Bill's in New Jersey), and I had never seen a proper example of the Native American variation—it was the cherry on top of a delightful mini-road trip through Long Island.

Chief Running Fair stands outside the Riverhead Raceway in Riverhead, NY in western Long Island. The race track bought him in 1982 when the Danbury Fair in Connecticut sold all of their statues. Apparently in October of 2012 Superstorm Sandy snapped him in two, but he was restored and back up by Christmas of that year. He's in sort of an odd place—behind a chain link, barbed-wire-topped fence and slightly hidden from the road, but he looks like he's well-cared for and has a vibrant paint job.

His lower half resembles most of the other Muffler Men I've seen—he counts as my eleventh!—but his head, torso and arm position appear to be unique. I love his colorful markings and the detail in his hair and headdress is really incredible. The way that musculature and fabric folds are so expertly reproduced in fiberglass will never cease to amaze me, and I'm so glad that I finally got to add another variation to my Muffler Man (photo) collection.

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.