This list didn’t quite make the cut for inclusion in tomorrow’s paper, in part because I don’t have enough to say about each item, but these nuggets were too good not to share.
Trucker and teddy
Driving along I-73 in southern Greensboro, I noticed an unusually fuzzy passenger riding shotgun with a trucker out of Illinois. Safety first: he had even taken the time to buckle the carnival-size teddy bear’s seatbelt.
There is a place in Pennsylvania very appropriately (yes, really) named “Paradise” where I passed a sign for “Meat bingo.” Say no more. Further along my drive from Philadelphia back to Greensboro not far from Roanoke, I passed an even more puzzling sign: “We sell Ashley.” I’ve know what Molly, Keisha, Becky and Mary Jane are, but what the $%&* is Ashley?
Dyke IndustriesThe wholesale building supplies truck for Dyke Industries drove by my house last week. Really people?
My first year of college some kids were visiting a student in my dorm, and since their momma told them to bring a gift when you crash with someone, they grabbed a dead raccoon out of the road and decided to skin it in our common area. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it before, but the bumper sticker on a car on Tate Street reading “Eat more possum” reminded me of the foul smelling encounter during my first year in Greensboro.
If you read our blog regularly you probably saw the photo I put up of the gigantic purple monkey that was attached to the top of a telephone poll on High Point Road near our office. Then, as mysteriously as it came it was gone one day. Maybe it migrated south for the winter.
I wish I were a...
High Point Road has more to offer than monkeys — today Brian and I saw the Oscar Meyer truck cruising along, undoubtedly one of the most phallic things we’ve ever seen. The well endowed hot dog mobile isn’t exactly a food truck, but it was more fleeting than the monkey and we didn’t even have time to snap a picture.
I don’t know if he was dressed up for a look-alike contest or if this dude just really loved professional wrestling, but he must have known what he was doing. Sitting on the curb outside of a closed sports bar, this Hulk Hogan wannabe was sporting a white handlebar moustache and a yellow bandana on his head, briefly making eye contact with me as I drove by.
It was raining and I was full of carnival food, but the only thing I could think about at the Carolina Country Fair was how incredible the haircuts were. Not exactly where you’d think to go in order to see the freshest fades. I was briefly distracted by the camels and a kid who must have been 12, rocking a shirt that said, “Great story babe, now go make me a sandwich,” and we couldn’t decide if we were more disgusted by him or the girl on his arm who must have seen through to this bad boy’s soft side.
I don’t know why I always pay cash when I buy gasoline, but the compulsion puts me in contact with people I might not otherwise run into. Like the guy at the Hess station on Battleground Avenue, sporting a cowboy hat and a guitar around his neck on a string — you know, in case he just really needed to jam out while he waited behind me to buy a Four Loco.
Basketball legend Bill Walton wished me a happy birthday last night. The whole story, and the video to prove it, will be up here shortly.