Category: Roadside Stuff

Roadside Americana: Greetings from Woolwich – Mainer C. Lobster

Roadside Americana: Greetings from Woolwich – Mainer C. Lobster

Mainer C. Lobster sits outside of Taste of Maine restaurant in Woolwich, Maine on Route 1. Isn’t he glorious?

Having a lobster this excited about well, everything would probably bring a lot of sunshine to your life.

I’m a little bummed to discover that I could’ve gone inside and bought a magnet with his mug on it in the restaurant gift shop. First of all… restaurant gift shop? Tres Cracker Barrel. But, I did get to see Mainer with the addition of two new teeth, based on the photos posted onΒ Roadside America. Lose out on a magnet, gain a tooth or two. Seems alright, I guess.

Taste of Maine
161 Main St,
Woolwich, ME 04579

Big Bertha of Boothbay Harbor, Maine

Big Bertha of Boothbay Harbor, Maine

Oh, what a lovely little house. So New Englandy, isn’t it? A charming seaside cottag… what the?

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph what is that in the front yard?

Oh. Right. It’s a butt tree. No big whoop.

ARE YOU KIDDING?! IT’S A BUTT TREE!Β A butt tree. A. BUTT. TREE!

**dies**

We were just driving along on Atlantic Avenue in Boothbay Harbor after visiting a gigantic fisherman and there it was. The best day ever, since last time.

Serenity Glass Park – Port Allegany, Pennsylvania

Serenity Glass Park – Port Allegany, Pennsylvania

While I was riding along Route 6 in Pennsylvania, I passed through Port Allegany. Right in the middle of town sits a small but eye-catching park featuring colorful glass block structures. I couldn’t resist stopping to get a look at what the story was. It was called Serenity Glass Park.

Though the park is small and appears to still be under construction, you could tell it was big on meaning. Port Allegany’s economy has apparently been largely dependant on glass manufacturing. In 2016, Pittsburgh Corning, a manufacturer of glass blocks and long-time local employer, shuttered its doors.

When I pass through small towns like Port Allegheny, there is a sense of community and a unique flavor that I don’t experience on my island of nearly 8 million people. Here, we seem to go out of our way to avoid contact with each other rather than find ways to come together and celebrate what binds us. We are faceless, nameless, anonymous ants scurrying about. Everything is a franchise. Perhaps that’s why I love passing through small town America. It’s like an expedition to find normalcy.

Sometimes I just want to hug these little towns and keep them close so that they live forever.

 

 

 

The Man With a Plan for a Can, The Legend – Chef Boyardee

The Man With a Plan for a Can, The Legend – Chef Boyardee

Every American kid who grew up in the 70s and 80s probably had more than their fair share of curious meatlumps and squishy sketties from a can courtesy of this dude. The man with the can – Chef Boyardee.

Most people probably think Chef Boyardee was just a marketing character. But no, Hector Boiardi was a real man with a plan and not just a can. A statue of his likeness stands outside of Con Agra Foods in Milton, Pennsylvania.

Chef Boyardee stands at:
30 Marr St.,
Milton, PA

Clearing the Tracks with Jaws

Clearing the Tracks with Jaws

There’s no good reason at all that I’m posting this photo of the Bonnie next to the track-clearing plow train. I just like it.

JAWS III sits beside the Long Island Railroad Museum in Greenport, NY. Whenever I stick close to home I seem to find myself out there on Long Island’s north fork.

Lately Ive been trying to find ways to kickstart my creativity. Or more accurately, hang on to it. I have no trouble getting inspired or excited about ideas. The follow-through is where I go to pieces. That seems to be the result of expecting too much or being too restrictive with my peculiar rules about what things I should be posting and when. I mean… I’m not writing medical research here. I’m not a business. I’m not a professional writer. I’m not building a “brand.” I’m just a dope with a computer who is recording their thoughts.

Somehow I get derailed by the idea that a blog is supposed to be more highbrow than what I might post to Instagram. That’s my favorite social distraction. But because of it’s ease and my low expectations of it, Insta has become a surrogate blog. There – people (I?) seem to be fine with long posts, short posts, no words, 20 posts in a day, or whatever. Anything goes. I need to adopt that type of thinking for my blog. My rigid ideas about blogging aren’t doing me any good. They make me not blog. And I think writing things down is good for me.

And soooo… hopefully I can get out of my own way here. Moving on! πŸ™‚

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