Well, I suppose if you’re going to have roadside attractions, you might as well devote some of them to the road trip idea itself. And if you’re going to do that … well, I guess it follows that somewhere there’d be a monument to petroleum, nectar of the road trip gods.
And at 76 feet tall, Tulsa’s Golden Driller is guaranteed not to let you forget what fueled your little pilgrimage. (Am I the only person who can be made to feel guilty by a roadside attraction?)
If you’re looking to do a Canadian Stereotypes tour of the Trans-Canada Highway, you’ll be happy to learn there’s no shortage of moose statues, Tim Horton’s or poutine shacks along the way.
Shocker, I know.
You might remember Salem Sue—she was the first sketch I ever posted on this blog. I have a deep fondness for just about any roadside attraction, but I might just love Sue best of all.
It’s not just that she’s freakishly realistic (just out of frame of this sketch: the big scary veins on her udder), and at 38 x 50 feet, absolutely huge. There’s also something about her location, perched on a butte, with an endless plain stretching below her in every direction. It’s impossible to be that big and not have some serious presence.
Probably what I love best of all, though, is that Salem Sue looks great from every angle—from far below, close-to, underfoot, and even from above. The residents of New Salem seem to know this, and have made it easy to get up there and reach her.
Good thing I had plenty of pages left in my sketchbook.
Here’s what you do: you go to the Minnesota State Fair with at least four or five people in your party. Then everybody chooses one or two things to eat and shares with the group—that way, you get a small sample of a lot of different things. (Added bonus of sharing small bites: not suffering a coronary by the end of the day.)
Don’t worry if you don’t have enough butter for your roasted corn on the cob—
I know where you can find more.
Every year that I lived in Minneapolis I told myself I’d do a piece of crop art someday and enter it into the State Fair. Well, I never got around to the real thing, but I did draft an idea in my sketchbook!
It really doesn’t matter, though—I’m just glad I got to spend so much time perusing the ag displays every year. Growing up, I was too much of a city kid to do anything like 4-H, so I guess the fair is my chance to live vicariously through a bunch of farm kids and their charges.
Oh, that—and die and go to heaven every time I saw the vintage seed sacks.
By the time I’d get to the other end of the ag pavilion, I’d have forgotten all about the rides and cheese curds—I guess I was mesmerized by all those blue ribbons.
Even though it’s been years since I lived in the Twin Cities, and the Great Minnesota Get-Together was a part of my summer tradition, I can’t bring myself to switch allegiance. No matter how much time goes by, to me there is no other state fair than the Minnesota State Fair.
This year’s Fair is already in full swing. I can’t be there in person, so instead I’ll be devoting this week’s posts to my favorite Fair traditions and highlights. Let’s just say…there will be butter.
To all my Minnesota friends: have fun this year, and eat some cheese curds for me!
Two years ago today, the Tailor and I were at our friend Sarah’s family farm in North Dakota, celebrating her wedding to the coolest groom we know. (That barn you see above is the same one that sometimes appears as the masthead on this blog!)
We didn’t just get to spend a whole day in the company of people we love—we also got to experience an overwhelming feeling of home. The Christianson farm wasn’t our home, of course, but we got to bask in how much it meant to the people who had grown up on those acres. We could almost feel the years (five generations’ worth!) of memories surrounding us there. I can’t think of a better place to have a wedding, and create new memories.
Happy anniversary, Sarah and Jesse! Here’s to many more—love to you both.
I’ve driven across Kansas enough times that these signs (which are repeated several times along the road, reminiscent of Wall Drug ads) have become like old friends. I haven’t yet succumbed to the temptation to pay six bucks to see any five-legged steers, but that’s okay—that’s not why I like these so much. They remind me vaguely of another, long-extinct slice of Americana—one that I’d dearly love to be able to go back in time to sketch. So since I can’t see them myself, I’ll write my own:
Wish I’d have seen
With mine own eye
Those roadside ads
Of days gone by:
Burma Shave.
Now, commuting by cowboy hearse or by dinghy might seem a little unusual to us, but for some people, just a family station wagon would be downright outlandish…
This sketch was a complete—and happy—accident. The Tailor and I happened to pass through Amish country on a Sunday, so I figured nobody would be out and about. We stopped just so I could draw a few farm scenes, but while I was at it these folks passed by.
All I can say is I’m glad I had a pencil on me (so I could jot down a rough sketch more quickly)—and that buggies move pretty slowly.
Okay, now this is a water tower. End of story.