I’m a sucker for highway signs.  Wall Drug, Ruby Falls, Mail Pouch, Burma Shave . . . a well done sign says something significant in a few words and a poorly done sign leaves you scratching your head for miles.  This one caught my eye the other day as I was traveling out of town to preach. In the rear view mirror I noticed the other side says “Jesus is Real.”  There is more comfort for those heading north than south, which makes sense, I guess, in a heaven is up, hell is down way.

That certainly gave me something to think about as I got ready to ascend a pulpit.  Shortly after exiting the interstate, I encountered this sign.

Yes, that is my thumb in the upper left.  I was losing my balance and stumbling down a ditch, it was freezing, the wind was blowing 128 miles an hour and I had stopped my car to take a picture of a sign because it said fart.  What is wrong with me?  This was on a Sunday when I was going to preach!

Speaking of vulgarities, I’ve long been enchanted by this sign on I-94 in Michigan.

You can imagine how I raise my eyebrows and act like I’m fighting the steering wheel every time I drive past this with my wife in the car.  What do you think humorless people do when they drive down I-94?  Pretend it isn’t there? There’s another exit in Michigan I adore, the much more sublty named “Covert.”  Wish I had a photo of that one.  Just the word covert and an arrow.  What in the world goes on down that road?  I’ve never dared exit to find out. 

Speaking of roads I didn’t dare drive down and pictures I wish I’d taken, I did see a sign in Alaska once that said, “Hazardous Glacial Road Ahead.  Notify next of kin if proceeding past this point.”  I was sitting alongside my next of kin and instead of stopping to take a picture we backed up and got the hell out of there.   Which, of course, is the name of a town in Michigan (about the same latitude as Climax, if it matters), and I’d show you a welcome to Hell sign, but isn’t that sort of cliched and haven’t I already done a hell sign in this piece?

Anyhow, speaking of covert activities, the first time I saw this sign outside DC I almost ran off the road. 

Who are they trying to kid? But wait, there’s more.  How’s this for merging the presidency with the surreal? I saw this in Key West.

How did Margaret Truman get mixed up in this? The Truman family vacationed in Key West, leading me to believe this can’t be some other Margaret Truman.  This was Harry Truman’s piano playing daughter.  She grew up to write murder mysteries, among them Murder in Foggy Bottom.  Foggy Bottom, by the way, isn’t too far from the George Bush Center for Intelligence. I see the Foggy Bottom signs every time we visit our daughter in DC, and they never fail to delight the junior high boy that resides in me.

For years I’ve noticed the lineup of towns on exits and put them together to see if they make a name. Stoughton LaBaron has long been a favorite.  Gary Chesterton works, but it’s nothing like the bluebood Chesterton Gary one encounters from the other direction. And Dundee Monroe sounds like some long-lost relative of mine from the Highlands.

Did someone mention the Scottish Highlands? (What smooth segues, even in a blog that’s mostly pictures!) I encountered this in the Scottish Highlands. 

Needless to say, I sat in front of that sign for a long time reevaluating my life before driving forward.

Here’s another European favorite.   That’s right, I’m a guy who travels to Europe and takes pictures of McDonalds.  We have drive-thrus, the French get McDrives.  Those lucky French.

Makes me wish I’d taken a picture of the Atlanta Fried Chicken restaurant that sits right next to the train tracks in The Hague. 

One last European sign, this one from Brugge.  Sometimes you just have to take a picture of something because you never want to forget it.

Anyway, this is but a sampling of my favorite signs.  I’m sure you have yours.  What are they?