Haddam, Connecticut's sad sack shad shack

The mighty shad, pride of Connecticut

Spencer's -- Connecticut's last shad shack

Haddam, Connecticut is a beautiful small town along the eastern side of the Connecticut River. On Route 154, just up the road from the area's landmark Goodspeed Opera House, sits a curious dwelling amid all the finely kept wooded yards and expensive upper class homes: a dilapidated hut with "Spencer's Haddam Shad Shack" painted in big letters on three sides of it. According to the Haddam Historical Society's website, Spencer's has been a local landmark since 1930, and is open on a seasonal basis when the shad are running. Shad have played an important role in the community's history and Spencer's is Connecticut's only remaining Shad Shack.

Apparently shad are a big deal in Connecticut (although I grew up in the state and never knew it). A quick Google search shows tons of websites devoted to it, the largest of the herring family and a favorite Connecticut River sportfish. It's the state fish of Connecticut and Haddam even has a shad museum.

Which brings us back to our sad little shack in Haddam. In certain communities along the Connecticut River, the spring run of shad are cause for celebration. It was a staple and savior of the Connecticut colonists and at one time there were lots of shad shacks. Could Connecticut's last shad shack be sleeping with the fishes? It doesn't look too promising, but who knows... Connecticut Yankees are a feisty bunch and not ones to part with their shad traditions lightly. If Haddam's shad shack is shuttered, it could be a shattering experience. Sha-doobee.

Zip's Diner of Dayville, Connecticut: If you don't think this is a great diner, you don't know Zip

Keep your eye on the pie.

There's no better diner music than Patsy Cline.

Ziplock, shmiplock...we use wax paper!

A little bit of diner heaven resides in the quiet northeastern Connecticut hamlet of Dayville. At Routes 12 and 101 is Zip's Dining Car and it is everything you would want in a diner: a pristine silver stainless steel exterior, a classic diner menu of homemade comfort foods, Patsy Cline on the jukebox, a smiling waitstaff ready to make you feel like a long lost relative, and a big neon sign that insists you EAT. This isn't a DisneyWorld recreation of America's lost past, though. This the real deal: a living, breathing, bit of Americana you can immerse yourself and dunk your donut in. Zip's has been on this spot since 1954 and diner aficionados will recognize the architecture as a vintage and beautifully preserved 1950s O'Mahony model. On a mid-afternoon visit, we partook of the coconut cream pie and it was the best, and I mean the best we've ever eaten. We also got meatloaf sandwiches to go and they were nothing short of meatloafalicious. Places like this are so rare and so wonderful that everyone should eat here. Just do what the sign says.

Meanwhile, back at the Cadillac Ranch

Our trusty Subaru Forester bowing at the altar of Roadside Gods.

I felt like posting a real eccentric roadside icon today and went digging through the Eccentric Roadside archives and found pictures from our 2004 visit to the Cadillac Ranch of Amarillo, Texas. If you've never heard of this place, you're just not paying attention. Here's a little history from wikipedia:

Cadillac Ranch is a public art installation and sculpture in Amarillo, Texas, U.S. It was created in 1974 by Chip Lord, Hudson Marquez and Doug Michels, who were a part of the art group Ant Farm, and it consists of what were (when originally installed during 1974) either older running used or junk Cadillac automobiles, representing a number of evolutions of the car line (most notably the birth and death of the defining feature of early Cadillacs; the tail fin) from 1949 to 1963, half-buried nose-first in the ground, at an angle corresponding to that of the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt. The piece is a statement about the paradoxical simultaneous American fascinations with both a "sense of place" — and roadside attractions, such as The Ranch itself — and the mobility and freedom of the automobile. It was originally located in a wheat field, but in 1997 the installation was quietly moved by a local contractor two miles (three kilometers) to the west, to a cow pasture along Interstate 40, in order to place it further from the limits of the growing city.

I admire the eccentric principals of its creators for first building it and then moving it to preserve its roadside je ne sais quoi. I read somewhere that a Cadillac dealer wanted it as its backdrop and he was going to locate his dealership in front of the Ranch and that was why the Ranch was moved -- to keep it in its own unpolluted flat farm environment. I'm not sure if that's true but it makes for a good anecdote.

A loving tribute was paid to the Ranch in the movie Cars. If you haven't seen that movie, by all means do. We give it 5 out 5 Eccentric Roadside Idaho Potatoes.

Even though it's not on public land and you have to drive down a dirt access road to get there, people from all over the world visit it in droves. It's one of the few public places where graffiti is encouraged. When we were there I asked another tourist to snap our picture. When I thanked him he cheerfully said "anytime." So I guess this means any time we're at the Cadillac Ranch, he'll take our picture. Very generous of him.

Incomparable than hold up roadside oddities and undiluted options from theairfareblog.com

Of march there is zero peculiar or singular about relaxing upon a chair though if it was a country’s largest chair we ought to consider twice.

Though primarily there were talks about pulling a site down thoughcurrently signs upon a hinterland of locale right away proudly brand Alliance as a “Home of Carhenge.”

WaterFire’s a single hundred stimulating bonfires, a perfumed smell ofsavoury timber smoke, a flickering firelight upon a arched overpass as well as a lively song are a contingency see for those formulation to revisit Rhode Island.

A Google blog alert pointed me to an unintentionally funny post on a blog called theairfareblog.com. They had the good taste to mention some great eccentric roadside attractions like Alliance, Nebraska's Carhenge, Anniston, Alabama's World's Biggest Chair and my own Rhode Island's Waterfire. What makes it funny is the bad translation from whatever native language it originated in to English. Here's the intro:

If we are finished with upon eighth month beaches, parks, mountainous country as well as mountains, how about a eighth month exploring a incomparable than hold up roadside oddities? If a answer is a resounding “Yes” we have a undiluted options for you.

It always tickles me when the translation is so far off you can't even guess what they really mean. Personally, I'm all about "incomperable than hold up roadside oddities," though, and they do have some good shots, so check them out. Borat couldn't have said it better.

Tripping the lights fantastic: New York City neon

The trend these days in well-lit places like Times Square and the Las Vegas Strip seems to be toward big screen projection signs and less about old-fashioned neon, but give me the bent gaseous tubes any day. Luckily, there's still plenty of neon to be admired and gawked at in the Big Apple. We were in New York for a couple of days and I couldn't get enough of the bright lights just within a block or two of our mid-Manhattan hotel. They barely scratch the surface of all the great neon New York has to offer that you could spend weeks photographing. To me there are no bad neon signs. I love them all... the perfectly maintained ones, all bright and glowy; the older ones beginning to fade with age; and the sad ones with letters burned out pining for their glory days. Start spreading the news.

Ticked off in Lyme, Connecticut

It's beautiful in Lyme, Connecticut.

A little tick can cause a lot of trouble.

If you get a rash like this, see a doctor quick.

The debilitating illness Lyme Disease is no joke, especially to the residents of Lyme, Connecticut who have the dubious distinction of being this awful malady's namesake. According to the Connecticut Department of Health, the history of Lyme disease in Connecticut began in 1975 when a cluster of children and adults residing in the Lyme area experienced uncommon arthritic symptoms. By 1977, the first 51 cases of Lyme arthritis were described, and the Ixodes scapularis (black-legged) tick was linked to the transmission of the disease. Today, people are familiar with the bulls-eye rash that occurs from tick bites and now know to seek immediate medical attention, but the diagnosis and treatment of Lyme disease has been very controversial and some doctors refuse to acknowledge the disease exists even to this day. But what about the people of Lyme who are stuck having this blot on their town's reputation? The area couldn't be a more picturesque and charmingly New England place. They've got farms, quaint buildings, pretty tree-lined streets and a beautiful location on the Connecticut River. Are they to blame for all of us having to tuck our long pants in our socks while dousing ourselves in Deet every time we mow our lawns or work in our yards? Lyme disease is everywhere; they just happened to have the doctor that noticed it first. Let's not kill the messenger here.

Webster, Massachusett's Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagogg-chaubunagungamaugg: It's Chargoggagoggmanchauggagogg-chaubunagungamaugg-ariffic!

They've got a funny name but it's very pretty there.

An eccentric lake calls for an eccentric vehicle,
and sure enough we saw this Amphicar go by.

They must have the world's most winded cheerleaders:
Give me a C! Give me an H! Give me an A! Give me a G! Give me some oxygen!

Webster, Massachusetts is a fine community just over the northeastern Connecticut border and they sport one of the best eccentric roadside attractions going. They have a lake with a long name. A really long name. A really, really, really LONG name, as in
Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg.
It's the longest place name in the United States and 6th longest in the world. The name comes from the native Nipmuc Indians and loosely translates to "Fishing Place at the Boundaries -- Neutral Meeting Grounds". I get the feeling that the Nipmucs had a Chief Shecky who thought it would be funny to remove all the spaces between the words when he told the white guys what the name of his lake was. "We may get pushed off this land but you'll be stuck with a body of water that goes by an unpronounceable name with 45 letters. Jokes's on you, paleface!" CBS News' eccentric people and places reporter Steve Hartman (I want his job) did a fun piece about this place. Check it out:


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