Mother Goose in Hazard, Kentucky

By Fuzzygalore | June 19, 2019 | Comments 2 comments

Sometimes people ask me how I find funky stuff while out on the road. One of my favorite ways is by chance. While satisfying an itch by navigating to something has its own reward, seeing something unexpectedly adds to it the delicious element of surprise.

In October of 2018, I rode through Hazard, Kentucky after stopping in Dwarf. Hazard was one of those town names I’d often seen on a map and thought, I should pass through there. No doubt this inclination was fueled by my childhood crush on John Schneider as Bo Duke on the Dukes of Hazzard. (Don’t judge me!)

After having a look-see around the town, I continued east towards I have no idea where. Suddenly I found myself looking at a giant Goose building on the side of the road. Yeeeehaw!

Keep exploring, my friends.

Mother Goose House
2906 N Main St
Hazard, KY 41701

The Rapture of a North Carolina Muffler Man

By Fuzzygalore | May 9, 2019 | Comments 1 comment

Much like the Spanish Inquisition, no one expects a religious experience. It’s just one of those things that sneak up you when you aren’t lookin’. If not the sight of Saint Pete at the gates or Archangel Michael eating tacos, what could you attribute the expression on this guy’s face to?

Point of note: One of Saint Peter’s patronages is Horology. Horology and Whoreology? These homonyms are two entirely different things and will guide you down two very different internet rabbit holes.

Maybe this muff looks so in awe to me because I keep thinking that his lips are an open mouth – My God, It’s full of stars.

But upon closer inspection, he does seems to have bags under his eyes. Perhaps his look is less rapture, more why did I wake up behind a dumpster in a winter coat, with no pants and one shoe on. I mean, who doesn’t know THAT feeling?

Wait, what? No… one… else..?

Well, would you look at the time. Lunch hour is over, best be running along.

If you’d like to visit this muffler man, you’ll find him in Raleigh, North Carolina.

Metal Gear Garden – York, Pennsylvania

By Fuzzygalore | December 8, 2018 | Comments 6 comments

While navigating my way around York, Pennsylvania to look for murals and ghost signs, I rode passed a metal garden which had giant flowers made out of gears and things.

Something about the Gear Garden felt reminiscent of the PennDOT Sculpture Garden in Meadville, Pa. – another great stop. Perhaps the idea of making something lovely out of throwaways is the connection.

I bet the flowers look especially lovely on a bright blue day.

Giant Chicken Army: North Carolina’s Master of Disguise

By Fuzzygalore | November 7, 2018 | Comments 5 comments

Don’t sleep on the Giant Chicken Army. I’ve warned you all before but it’s the same old story. No one does anything until it’s too late.

While heading towards the Dragon in October, I encountered another mobilized soldier, but this time the scaly legged critter was in uniform. Or… disguise.

Perhaps, as previously postulated, it is the same chicken following me but the long way ’round and he’s wearing a new t-shirt to try to blend in. This theory is terrifying on several levels. The most troubling being that this chicken has ESP to know where I’m going before I do. I mean we’re talking about Men Who Stare at Goats-level PsyOps.

I’m telling you, people. They/He is everywhere. Next time you see a pair of beady eyes staring in your window one night, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.

Location:
https://goo.gl/maps/fgsfFggbiCF2

Adjusting Expectations With a West Virginia Big Boy

By Fuzzygalore | October 28, 2018 | Comments 7 comments

Everything doesn’t always come up sunshine and roses when you’re road tripping and looking for something you read about or might’ve heard of in passing.

Sometimes a pin on my map for a Mail Pouch barn will turn up a pile of collapsed wood where a barn used to be. Or maybe I can’t actually find what I’d saved or it’s missing. And sometimes a thing sounds much cooler than the reality of it. When you turn up for a visit… sad trombone. It’s a roll of the dice.

Luckily the journey almost always has some value to it so there’s that. You might happen upon something else in the area that makes up for the letdown. Sometimes you’ve gotta make lemonade.

Recently, I had my hopes up for the Shoney’s Big Boy Museum in Charleston, West Virginia. I hadn’t read anything about it, I only had the name and address. Based on the name, I imagined a restaurant with memorabilia-covered walls and statues and nicknacks. I envisioned a place where I could grab a bite to eat and use the restroom and I was excited by that. So when I turned up and found…

Well, let’s just say my fantasy was a bit aggressive. Instead of a tchotchke covered restaurant, I pulled up to Big Boy on a stick, a couple of yellowing newspaper articles, and some pushpins on a corkboard marking the spot where something used to be. ::womp:womp::

I suppose if I had known it was solely a memorial marker of the Big Boy genesis, the Parkette Drive-in, maybe my imagination wouldn’t have gotten away from me. If I had known what was waiting for me, would I have felt disappointed? Maybe not. Them’s the breaks.

The silver lining in this situation was that I serendipitously saw a Mail Pouch barn on the way, so I’d traded one good thing for another. Lemonade.

A Yeti, an Art Gallery, a Kickass Road – This must be Ranchita, California

By Fuzzygalore | October 27, 2018 | Comments 1 comment

In December of 2016, I was in California taking a week-long riding trip. I flew to LA, rented a bike and wandered about. While heading towards Borrego Spring on Montezuma-Borrego Highway, I passed a Yeti in Ranchita. Often people will ask me how I find such things. In this case, it was pure serendipity.

So was this little roadside art gallery. You just never know what you’re going to find out there in the world, do ya?

One of the patronages of St. Maurice is to the Brotherhood of Blackheads. I myself have not-so-great skin, but damned if I’m joining a club about it.

Saint Maurice
…
A place of subtle old fashioned
virtues an escape from …
present into a softer more
gentle way of life and opening
up to light and the weather
a sense of real luxury
the kind that cannot be
measured by monetary standards
a level of tranquility
a sweethnes[sic] of tone
an uncomplicated
round for the ongoing
…

Would You Like to See My Sweet Caboose?

By Fuzzygalore | April 3, 2018 | Comments 7 comments

Sleeping in a caboose is one of the items that has been on my life’s To Do list for many years. How it ended up there, at this point I can’t say. It’s not like I’m not a railroad fanatic or anything. No doubt I stumbled across the existence of a caboose motel and said fun! and the idea stuck around.

When I woke up on Saturday morning, I hadn’t planned on that being that day that I would sleep in a caboose. But, a few cups of coffee and 200 miles later, I found myself in the belly of the Reading caboose #21. ::shrug::

Sadly, my car isn’t as photogenic as my motorcycle.

Upon check-in at the Red Caboose Motel, the friendly desk clerk addressed me as if there were an “us,” a “you guys” and a “you all.” As you might imagine, this place is popular with families, so I don’t blame her.

“Have you guys stayed with us before?”
“Nope, first time.”
“Well, welcome aboard! Woo woo!”

Yep. She really woo-wooed, pulling the imaginary cord that sounds the horn. It’s nice when people are excited about life.

If I had to guess, a lot of solo 40-something women don’t come wheeling into the caboose motel on a Saturday night. And so I didn’t bother to correct her on my non-us-ness. About an hour later when I saw her again, she said cheerfully said, “is everything okay with you guys in your caboo… you’re alone, aren’t you. Sorry. Habit.” I’m starting to get a complex. You can’t make this stuff up.

As I said, this motel is very family friendly. It has an arcade, a silo observation tower, playground, buggy rides, ice cream and a few barnyard animals for petting.

Though I felt a little out of place with no kidlet of my own, I spent some time at the animal pens with the mini horses. As gaggles of children descended to tug on animal ears and manes – there I was, trying to telepathically communicate with the animals. I felt it was important that they knew that I was only there to love them up gently and that they should stay with me ‘cuz I love them best.

But apparently, they don’t have time for small talk, even if telepathically, when you don’t come with 25¢ worth of yum-yum pellets from the vending machine. I never seem to have any change when I actually want it.

While trying to make nice with a fuzzy gray horse, I watched the families at the other end of the corral. Looking on, I wondered why any parent would just allow their tiny toddler to put their deliciously chubby digits into some strange animals face unobserved.

Maybe I’m overly cautious, but it seems to me that when your two-year-old is touching an animal that is at least four times their size, you might want to put your fucking phone down and pay attention. I watched one dad yap nonstop on his phone while his little girl, face plugged with a pacifier, ran up and down along the fence “petting” the other mini horses. Later on, I heard crying and the words “…is a nipper,” floating above the general conversation. Oh, well.

People move in and out of my office all day tugging at my attention. Maybe if I start biting they’ll leave me alone, too.

The interior of my Queen Couples caboose looked like a tiny log cabin. It was clean and comfortable with cable, WiFi, a table to write at, a microwave, comfortable bed, and no funny smells. As nighttime inked the sky black, the wind outside picked up. The lack of insulation in the train was apparent in both the noise and the occasional draft. Not that it was bothersome, just something I was aware of. It felt like a reminder that I was sleeping in unusual quarters.

I enjoyed the novelty of my stay in the caboose. Seeing them all lined up, end to end with their candy colors brings out a child-like cheerfulness. It was worth the trip.

The Red Caboose Motel
312 Paradise Lane
Ronks, PA 17572

Road Food Perfection – Hillbilly Hotdogs in Lesage, West Virginia

By Fuzzygalore | February 5, 2018 | Comments 5 comments

While cruising along the Ohio River on my way to Point Pleasant, West Virginia, I made a pit stop at the glorious Hillbilly Hotdogs. If you’re ever in the area, don’t miss it!

Previously, I posted about a postcard from my friend Chris after his visit to Hillbilly Hotdogs. Seeing the place with my own eyes and enjoying the experience first hand was somethin’ else. I’ll tell you what, this place is a trip!

At first, I couldn’t quite figure out where and how to actually order something. The place is so jampacked full of stuff, it takes a minute to get your bearings.

I dined next at the picnic table next to the toilet seat. How many times in your life can you say you’ve done that? Since it looked like a horseshoe, I thought it might bring me luck.

I recall Chris saying that he waited online for something like an hour to get his food when he was there on a weekend. As you can see from the photo below – lunchtime on a random Tuesday in September is the time to stop in. There was only 1 couple in front of me.

This weddin’ chapel seems perfect to me. Perhaps because Kenny and I got married in a bar by an ordained minister named Catfish.

And this… this was my lunch. The Strictly Business dog, hold the onions. Coleslaw, jalapenos, fried spam, shredded cheese, mustard, and a deep-fried weenie. The good luck toilet seat must’ve worked since I didn’t get heartburn or any other stomach distress from eating it. A Christmas miracle.

Yup.

Hillbilly Hot Dogs
6951 Ohio River Rd.
Lesage, WV

Paulverizer – The Cyborg Muffler Man of Buena Vista, Virginia

By Fuzzygalore | November 6, 2017 | Comments 1 comment

This ain’t your mama’s muffler man. No, this? This is somethin’ else! You’ve got that familiar sturdy jaw and that manly mug but that’s about it.

And a nice little hat tip to the motorcycle.

Unfortunately, with the sky so hazy and the crazy backlighting, I didn’t snap very many good pictures. I should probably learn how to use a camera. Since I bungled this, you should probably take a ride along the Blue Ridge Parkway and pop off in the town of Buena Vista, Virginia to have a look for yourself.

Paulverizer on Roadside America

Tag: Roadside America