While stopping for a meal in Arkansas, Susan spotted a “sign graveyard” next door. The parking lot and surrounding area was littered with hundreds of discarded signs: some in the trash dumpster, some near the trash dumpster, some around the trash dumpster, and some that hadn’t quite made their way to the trash dumpster yet.
(I have to tell you, if I had been in my truck this Red Lobster sign would be mounted over my garage door right now.)
The signs were of varying stages of disrepair. Some of the ones with Plexiglas had been smashed. Most of the ones with electronics had already been stripped of their wiring. Lots of them had been smushed.
There’s something about these old signs that fascinates me, but I’m not really sure what or why that is. They’re something most people don’t think twice about. Seeing them scattered around on the ground like that feels somehow unnatural.
Oh well. It’s too bad the signs and letters were all in such terrible shape that none of them could make the trip back home. Well…