One thing about getting older that’s not much fun is thinking about all the things that aren’t around anymore.
One of the saddest sights I ever saw came when I was driving on U.S. 30, the Lincoln Highway, west of Crestline, Ohio, in the late ’60s. While passing a small forest on the south side of the road, I saw something very strange. Back among the trees was the crumbling skeleton of an old roller coaster.
I had been visiting or living with my grandparents since I was 2 years old and no one had ever mentioned an amusement park to the west of town. A glance into the woods showed nothing else but the roller coaster.
On the other side of the road, there were Burma Shave signs. I must have seen those signs or others like them 50 to 100 times in various locations in the ’50s and ’60s. Their structure was unique for the time — five signs about a hundred yards or so apart, the first four telling a store and the fifth saying “Burma Shave.”
Many of them, just like the one above, gave good driving advice. Don’t drink and drive. Keep your speed down. Stop driving if you’re drowsy. Then there were the occasional ones touting the wonders of the product, a popular shaving lotion.
This may sound funny, but I kind of miss those signs. Of course, even if they were still around, we wouldn’t see many of them. In the fall of 2017, when my wife and I took a three-week trip driving up the East Coast and back, more than 90 percent of that trip was on Interstate highways. No small signs down at eye level on the interstates.
It has also been many years since I have seen advertisements for chewing tobacco on barns in rural areas.
I’m not even sure Red Man still exists. Ditto for its rival, Mail Pouch chewing tobacco.
Another fixture among barn advertisers is more regional throughout the South. Rock City, which has nothing to do with music of any sort, is located just south of Chattanooga on Lookout Mountain. It’s a park with all sorts of beautiful rock formations, and supposedly you can see seven different states from the top of the mountain.
Is it really possible to see Kentucky and Virginia 120 miles to the northeast? I don’t know, but someone once said on a clear day, you can see forever.
Someday I’ve got to go there. It’s only three hours or so to the north of us, and I have seen so many signs urging me to go.
It’s really quite interesting how much advertising used to be done on barns, and while it may seem tacky to have ads on your property, I’m sure the farmers much have seen at least some money for allowing it.
When you’re driving on the Interstates, most of the ads are telling you how far it is to the next Chic-fil-A or that the Holiday Inn up the road a piece includes free breakfast. One type of advertising that really repels me — and there is a ton of it — is advertisements for lawyers who will sue someone for you over anything bad that happens.
I know I’m old because I remember a time when lawyers weren’t allowed to advertise. If they wanted your business, they had to get out there and chase your ambulance.
Living in north central Georgia also tells you you’re going to see all sorts of billboards urging you come to church at their location. These are the ones that seem strangest to me because I have a hard time believing very many people see a billboard and decide to check out another church in case it’s better than the one they currently attend.
The one thing about advertising that is definitely true is that the world we used to have, the world when people would leave you alone, is gone forever.