California dreamin': Roy's Cafe of Amboy, California

We're feeling particularly chilled on this bone-cold winter's day in Rhode Island and I can't help but dream of some faraway place that's not just hot, not just really, really hot, but California desert hot. And that would be Roy's Cafe on Route 66 in Amboy, California. We were lucky enough to visit this awesome top-10-in-my-book-of-eccentric-roadside-attractions place back on a 98-degree day in 2011, so here's a rerun of what we had to say:

In the Mojave Desert of eastern California sits the town of Amboy, a once-prosperous stop along Route 66 where weary drivers could gas up, get some grub and spend the night before heading out the next morning on another lonesome stretch of the Mother Road. Roy's Cafe and gas station was opened in 1938 by Roy Crowl, who owned the whole town of Amboy (not a very big place, but impressive nonetheless) with his wife Velma. The Crowls' daughter Betty married a Herman "Buster" Burris and together they expanded Roy's and made it a booming post-War success. And then, as was the case with most Route 66 establishments, the Interstate came along and dried up all the local business. Buster sold the town in 1995 to a party that then went into foreclosure and then Buster's widow bought it back in 2005 and sold it to its current owner, a Mr. Albert Okura, who promised to keep the yesteryear ambiance and reopen Roy's in the future. When we were there last spring (2011), the gas station was pumping $4.99/gallon gas, the cafe had cold soda and souvenirs and a busload of European tourists were milling about the place. The motel cabins were deserted but graffiti-free, like a well-preserved ghost town. The awesome decaying Googie sign reaches for the sky like a skyscraper in this hardscrabble no man's land to all fans of dilapidated roadside nostalgia. It was 100 degrees when we stopped by, a little chilly for these parts, but it was worth every bead of sweat to see such an amazing eccentric roadside site. Roy Orbison, Roy Scheider, Roy's of Amboy...there's a lot of greatness in the name Roy.

A fine how-do-you-do in Connecticut

I've lived in Connecticut and Rhode Island all my life and if those two states were a comedy team, Connecticut would be Carl Reiner (earnest, intelligent, quick-witted and serious) and Rhode Island would be Mel Brooks (unpredictable, hilarious, and completely off the wall). So it comes as a bit of a surprise that no-nonsense, straight-laced Connecticut is a little wacky when it comes to imposing fines along the roadside. There seems to be an aversion to round numbers, as the two signs above attest: $219 for littering and $131 for parking in a handicapped space without a permit.

Reminds me of that bit from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail":

 Three shalt be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out.

So, in Connecticut there's a fine line between the sublime and the ridiculous when it comes to fines, not to put too fine a point on it, and we're fine ones to talk.

Stinging their praises: An update on Rhode Island's giant Exeter Scrap Metal scorpion

 A year and a half ago, we did a post about the giant green and yellow scorpion statue made out of old propane tanks, engine parts and other scrap metal castoffs that sits at the entrance of Exeter Scrap Metal in Exeter, Rhode Island, Eccentric Roadside's hometown (click here to read it). It took a little while, but just recently the legit Rhode Island press (The Providence Journal) also did a story about the place that went into much greater detail (unlike us, they actually talked to someone there) that answered all the burning questions ("who owns the place?" "why a scorpion?" "does he have a name?") we were too lazy...er, busy to ask.

Turns out the place is owned by a Mr. Kevin Gilligan, and the sculpture was created by various employees and family members and you can click here to read the full investigative report.

And we're sure when Thomas Jefferson said "The press is the best instrument for enlightening the  mind of man, and improving him as a rational, moral and social being," he meant stories about giant green and yellow scorpion statues.

The Price is White: The Big White Guy of Chicopee, Massachusetts sold at auction

For the past several decades, a friendly 30-foot fiberglass dude wearing a handsome white suit and hat has been a fixture around the greater Springfield, Massachusetts area, and since 1999 he has greeted motorists from his perch off the Massachusetts Turpike's Exit 6 off-ramp in front of the Plantation Inn in Chicopee. Back in 1970, a Mr. Mario Cantalini bought the Big White Guy, also known as Plantation Man or Southern Man (but not the Neil Young "Southern Man"), from a Framingham, Mass. pizza restaurant and converted him into an Uncle Sam for his Springfield Ford dealership. Then, in 1999, after he sold his dealership, he gave the big dude a monochromatic wardrobe makeover and moved him in front of  his new business, the Plantation Inn in Chicopee. Mr. Cantalini passed away last year at age 94, and now his relatives have closed the Inn and put the property, Big White Guy and all, up for auction last November. They didn't get their asking price for the Inn, but Big White Guy was sold for $11,500 to a Mr. Charlie Arment, Jr., a local businessman who bought the dude on behalf of a group of partners who plan to keep the statue somewhere in the greater Springfield area.

Good on you, Mr. Arment, for having your heart in the White place, being in the White place at the White time and doing the White thing by keeping Big White Guy local. You deserve a big hand.

Check out my source for all this great info here.

It's beginning to look a lot like an Eccentric Roadside Christmas

With Christmas just around the corner, we thought we'd share some Christmas cards we've made over the years commemorating our road trips with a little help from our friend Mr. Photoshop, including these great eccentric roadside sights...

...the American Gothic house in Eldon, Iowa...

 ...Death Valley...

 ...The Big Duck, Long Island, New York...

 ...Presidents Park, Williamsburg, Virginia...

...and the Hudson River, Kingston, New York.

We'd mail you one but we just ran out of stamps.

Big time move: The world's biggest cuckoo clock finds a new perch

We found out recently that the world's biggest cuckoo clock, which we visited in Wilmot, Ohio in 2007, has moved to a new home. It's been restored and now sits at the intersection of Main and Broadway Streets, 15 miles away in Sugar Creek, Ohio, proving that Ohio is still the most cuckoo state in the country. We've never been to Sugar Creek, but here's a rerun of the post we did after our swell visit to Wilmot:

 World's biggest cuckoo (I'm working on a self-deprecating joke here, give me a minute) clock

 The masses throng to watch, enthralled.

Grandma's Alpine Homestead is a fine restaurant/tourist trap in the Amish Ohio town of Wilmot that boasts the world's biggest cuckoo clock. This bit of bravado is a little bit controversial in large cuckoo clock circles, as a Michigan town makes the same claim. It would have to be a pretty darn big one to beat Wilmot's timepiece, though. We stopped by in 2007 and were lucky to view the clock in a newly refurbished luster. According to roadsideamerica.com (the bible, if you ask me), 16 volunteers spent 80 hours painting, varnishing and regrouting this tribute to German-Swiss timekeeping that would make a Swiss Miss cry in her cocoa. Hampton Hotels also coughed up $20,000 for the clock's on-going care (cuckoo! cuckoo!). Our visit's timing was excellent. After a little browsing in the gift shop we made our way to the patio for a recital featuring Old World characters doing their cuckoo clock shtick as the clock struck. You'd be cuckoo if you didn't stop and see this. Here's some more info: http://www.roadsideamerica.com/tip/1008 

No one I think is in my tree: Remembering John Lennon's New York City

 Photo by the great Bob Gruen

 The Dakota

Strawberry Fields

We remember John Lennon on this day with a look back on our post about The Dakota, the New York City building where he lived until his passing away on this day in 1980, and Strawberry Fields, the Central Park memorial in his honor (click here). Dreams sweet dreams for you, dreams sweet dreams for me.

Happy Thanksgiving

We here at Eccentric Roadside have much to be grateful for this Thanksgiving, and since eating is a big part of the celebration, we thought we'd post some food-related street signs we've seen along the way...

Strike up the abandoned: Awesome photography by Noel Kerns

These pictures are all copyright Noel Kerns. Aren't they something?

I've always found abandoned places compelling and I started taking pictures of them back when I was a college student. On our trips down secondary roads, we've seen a lot of these places -- melancholy reminders of what used to be  -- and I'm fascinated at how long some of these sad places stick around, rotting away year after year (check out some we've blogged about here). Lots of other people like to take pictures of these kinds of places, but very few have the talent and skill of a Mr. Noel Kerns, a Dallas-based photographer who mostly focuses on Texas ghost towns, decommissioned military bases and old gas stations, cafes and roadside dwellings, all photographed at night under a full moon. Just finding these places takes skill and time, but then he waits until the perfect evening and lights his subjects in an incredibly artistic and surreal way, giving the images a dreamlike quality he calls "light painting". He's got a book out, "Nightwatch - Painting with Light" and a really extensive Flickr sight. Keep up the good work, Mr. Kerns, and long live decay.