Ah, I-95. The asphalt artery of the East Coast. From lobster rolls in Maine to gator tours in Florida, it’s the kind of road trip that smells like gasoline, sea spray, and questionable convenience store hot dogs. But if you dare to veer off the exit ramp — even just slightly — you’ll find yourself eyeball-deep in the delightfully absurd, the proudly peculiar, and the “Wait, is that a giant termite?” end of the travel spectrum.
Buckle up, weirdos. Here are the strangest, quirkiest, most wonderfully oddball roadside attractions along America’s favorite overachieving interstate.
Nibbles Woodaway: Rhode Island’s Supreme Insect Overlord (Rhode Island)
What’s 9 feet tall, 58 feet long, and looks like it might chew through your Honda Civic if given half a chance? Meet Nibbles Woodaway, affectionately (and alarmingly) known as the Big Blue Bug. Perched atop a pest control company like a massive sapphire sentinel, this bug is visible from I-95 and fully embraces seasonal cosplay — from Santa hats to face masks to political statements.
Rhode Island doesn’t have mountains or megaliths. It has this bug. And frankly, we think it wins.
The Book Barn: For Bibliophiles and Goat Enthusiasts (Connecticut)
Calling it a bookstore is like calling the Louvre a “painting room.” The Book Barn in Niantic is a universe. A sprawling, book-burdened wonderland of sheds, shelves, secret reading nooks, and whimsical signage. Cats nap on windowsills. Goats bleat existentially in the barnyard. Somewhere between the outdoor patio and the Haunted Book Shed (yes, really), you’ll forget you were ever headed anywhere at all.
If roadside serenity had a smell, it would be old paper and goat breath.
Lucy the Elephant: Jumbo-Sized Coastal Kitsch (New Jersey)
You haven’t lived until you’ve climbed inside a six-story elephant. Lucy is a Victorian pachyderm palace with a howdah on top and a gift shop in her gut. Built in 1881 to attract real estate investors (because why not?), Lucy now stands as a proud, surreal monument to seaside whimsy. She’s older than the Eiffel Tower and has weathered storms, fires, and one truly unfortunate drunk-tourist debacle.
Trust us: the best beach views are through an elephant’s eyeballs.
South of the Border: A Neon Mirage (South Carolina)
Imagine if a souvenir shop and a carnival had a glitter-fueled fever dream, and then gave it a sombrero. That’s South of the Border — a sprawling, technicolor roadside complex that has everything: rides, restaurants, reptile exhibits, an observation tower shaped like a giant hat (more on that in a second), and more flashing neon than a Vegas wedding chapel.
It’s chaotic. It’s kitsch. It’s culturally confusing. It’s glorious.
The World’s Largest Frying Pan: Come for the Pan, Stay for the Poultry (North Carolina)
At 15 feet wide and capable of cooking 365 chickens at once (yes, exactly one for every day of the year), this steel beast isn’t just a cooking vessel — it’s a town mascot. Housed in a charming little pavilion like the Excalibur of poultry cookware, the pan gets fired up each year during the Poultry Jubilee, Rose Hill’s finest and fowlest celebration.
You’ll never look at brunch the same way again.
Vollis Simpson Whirligig Park: Where the Wind Gets Weird (North Carolina)
Imagine a Dr. Seuss fever dream welded from scrap metal and powered by wind. That’s what folk artist Vollis Simpson created — massive, hypnotic whirligigs that spin, clatter, and shimmer in the Carolina breeze. Now housed in a dedicated park, these kinetic sculptures are both whimsical and deeply moving, like outsider art on a sugar high.
Fort King George: A Historic Detour Into Bayonet Time (Georgia)
Sure, it’s a few minutes off I-95, but if you’ve ever wanted to wander through a colonial fort without being chased by actual Redcoats, this is your chance. Reconstructed with loving (and slightly obsessive) detail, Fort King George offers barracks, palisades, and a blockhouse that smells faintly of creosote and revolution.
History buffs, rejoice. Everyone else? There’s a cannon you can look at. Boom.
Pedro’s Ice Cream Fiesta Tower: The Most Delicious Hat You’ll Ever Climb (South Carolina)
Back at South of the Border (we told you it was too weird for just one entry), there’s a 200-foot tower shaped like a giant sombrero. You can ride an elevator to the brim and take in sweeping views of the surreal roadside empire below. And yes, there’s ice cream. Because nothing says “vacation memory” like licking vanilla swirl while 200 feet in the air, perched inside an oversized hat.
Safety tip: maybe don’t look down mid-lick.
