When I was a child, my parents attended an annual oyster roast whose centerpiece was a woman known as the Uniroyal Gal, a 17ft tall fiberglass woman in a low-slung blue bikini, modeled after Jacqueline Kennedy. Road trips took us through the land of Vollis Simpson’s Whirligig Park, Muffler Men, Marvin Johnson’s Gourd Collection and signs for General Stonewall Jackson’s left arm, buried separately from his body after an amputation in rural Virginia.
I wrongly assumed that Roadside Americana was only a fixture of southern roadsides. Now, I take joy in noticing it on my weekly commute north on Route 7 in Vermont.
