Hail to the chiefs: Some Indian imagery seen along the way

Wall Drug, Wall, South Dakota

The Red Feather Lodge, Tusayan, Arizona, one mile from the Grand Canyon

The Wigwam Motel, Rialto, California

The Shawmut Diner, New Bedford, Massachusetts

I shot this back in 2002 in Colorado Springs. Not sure if it's still there.

Indian Motorcycles were manufactured in Springfield, Massachusetts. The Lyman and Merrie Wood Museum of Springfield History has a great permanent exhibit about them...

...including this awesome photo of the great Jane Russell taking one out for a spin.

Little Big Horn, North Dakota

Tuba City, Arizona

Haight Ashbury, San Francisco, California

The kitsch-o-tastic Fort Cody Trading Post in North Platte, Nebraska has some great "exhibits", including this diorama of the old Sioux Trading Post...

...this brave playing checkers...

...and a fabulous Muffler Man Indian out back.

This fellow is known as the Big F Indian and he stands in front of the Conundrum Wine Bistro in Freeport, Maine.

This fellow beckons all to the Toh-Atin Gallery of Durango, Colorado's parking lot

A fine item from the Ohio Turnpike Rest Area gift shop

Outside the truly wonderful Plains Hotel, Cheyenne, Wyoming

The Big Chief Drive-In, Glencoe, Alabama

Whether or not you agree it's cool to objectify a race of great people, you see a lot of it while traveling across the USA. Native Americans, in particular. So here, without reservation, we bring you a few sights that may or may not 'wam the cockles of your heart. More pow wow to you, and how.

Just deserts: The Desert of Maine (yes, Maine)

This great vintage postcard was for sale in the gift shop. Published by Bromley & Company, Inc., Boston, 15, Mass.

The great state of Maine is known for its piney terrain, rocky coast, cold weather, moose, lobsters, and a desert. A desert? Ay-yah, a desert. The Desert of Maine, to be precise, in the small coastal town of Freeport (home of L.L. Bean), a little north of Portland. But unlike the Mojave, Gobi, or Kalahari, this desert is the result of man's folly. If you go back 10,000 years (the good old days), glaciers left a sandy silt all over southern Maine. Then, over the next centuries, topsoil formed, allowing vegetation and agriculture to grow. A Mr. William Tuttle bought 300 acres of this land in 1797 and farmed it successfully for decades, but eventually, poor crop rotation and overgrazing by sheep ruined the soil and caused it to erode -- so much so that that layer of Ice Age silt became exposed and claimed the farm and its buildings despite the Tuttles' best efforts. Having lost the farm, they tried using the sand for brick making, but the sand was lousy for that, too, and the bricks fell apart. In 1917, a Mr. Henry Goldrup bought the place and hit pay dirt by turning it into a tourist attraction. In 1925, The Desert of Maine opened for business and it's been a thriving mecca for eccentric roadside attraction fans ever since, bringing in 30,000 curiosity seekers a year in recent times. A guided half-hour trolley tour takes you across the 40-acre property, a lot of which has been reclaimed by grass and trees. You're riding on a 50-plus-foot sand dune, reminiscent of a ski slope, but with sand instead of snow. Our friendly guide Nate gave us all kinds of information about the geology and how the sand basically took over the place like a slow-moving tsunami. Originally, and in keeping with the desert theme, live camels roamed the place and greeted guests, and employees dressed in Bedouin garb. Unfortunately, camels are not the most hospitable animals, and when the stink and spitting became too much, they were given to a local zoo. Donkey carts were used for tours and this proved successful until local officials insisted a full-time veterinarian was required for any business employing animals thusly, so they were replaced by today's truck-pulled trams. An added bonus for today's tourists is the Sand Museum located in an adjacent barn, featuring vials of sand from as far away as Figi and Alaska. They also have a retro-tastic gift shop and campground.

So if you find yourself in Freeport, Maine, don't bury your head in the sand...check out the Desert of Maine. I double dromedary you.

Bean there, done that: Freeport, Maine's L.L. Bean flagship store

I love a good "ruined" picture. Here are a few of me in front of the giant boot at L.L. Bean.

Boot cookies (a sweet deal for not a lot of dough).

Bear with me on this.

Mmmm...I thought I smelled buck nip!

Come 'n' git it!

Mrs. Bean's trout, caught at Moosehead on July 8, 1953.

Just keepin' it reel.

They've got some cool exhibits of vintage merchandise. These items are from the 1930s.

This unclaimed personalized bag is for sale at the outlet store. It's an especially good bargain if your name happens to be Patti Hall.

Leon Leonwood Bean, founder of the company...

...not to be confused with that other famous Mr. Bean.

In 1912, Leon Leonwood Bean (L.L. to you and me) was tired of getting his feet wet while moose hunting in the woods of Maine. He came up with a boot made up of lightweight leather uppers and rubber bottoms, set up shop in his brother's Freeport, Maine basement, printed up some fliers and thus began one of the nation's most successful mail order businesses. Almost 100 years later, the L.L. Bean company is still located in Freeport, with a giant campus of clothing, hunting, fishing, boating, skiing, camping and furniture stores on Main Street. And the Bean boot, or Maine Hunting Shoe, is still a popular item, as the giant 16-foot photo-op model outside their door will attest. Inside the store, you'll find a trout pond, aquarium, stuffed animals, and lots of friendly, knowledgeable employees to advise you on the proper weight of waders or gauge of Gortex. I'm not exactly what you'd call an outdoorsman (roughing it for me is a motel room with only 10 channels on cable), but it's still very entertaining walking through a retail temple to the great outdoors like this. Orange dog safety vest? Right over here. Swarovski Z3 rifle scope? Behind you. Under Armour Evolution ColdGear leggings? You just passed them. And if all this isn't enough, there's an outlet store across the street with clearance items and markdowns on unclaimed personalized tote bags (where are you, Patti Hall?). If you can't have a good eccentric roadside time here, well, you just don't know Bean's.