From the time I was five or six it seemed my family and I were on the road. My father’s work meant a radical change of location every two or three years, and with both sets of grandparents in West Virginia, we would often have to make long four or five day journeys in order to visit them during summer holidays. One of the sights that was vividly impressed into me from an early age were the signs that littered the highway, especially those neon signs that advertised a motel, restaurant or dinner. They were like beacons in the wilderness of what at times seemed like an endless road. I remember looking out the window as we’d pass through little places that usually only had a gas station and a place to eat, and seeing the signs that promised steaks and chops, or hot beer and lousey food. Here are a sample of some of the signs I remember – though to be sure some of them have seen better days.