On a drive from Massachusetts to Orlando in 1989, my family was taken in by the billboards. We decided we'd divert from the plan (no stopping between grandfather's place near Trenton and the motel in South Carolina somewhere) and at least stretch our legs and see what the big deal was.
I forget where all the signs started at that point, but seeking them out was a decent enough way to amuse myself at age 11, my brothers were more excited at the countdown aspect of the whole thing.
As we approached the vaunted South of the Border, we were full of excitement about this mysterious wonderland that had filled our day with awful puns and the opportunity to count. Then we saw it.
Mom called an audible, we didn't even slow down.
