Apocalypse At Exit 239

I have always been a fan of apocalyptic entertainment. Not in a morbid sense. I just really like zombie movies. Night of the Living Dead. Dawn of the Dead or I Am Legend. Movies involving some sort of catastrophic accident or TV like AMC's The Walking Dead...anything where it's man versus some evil or virus or undead or...well you get the picture. The struggle to survive and rebuild. I'm always curious what one would do should they be thrown into life or death circumstances and what they do to get by.

In a funny sort of way what I shoot kind of represents a look at what was but is no longer. Many things are abandoned and left to nature. As if some sort of catastrophic event happened and everything was left as it was. The shell of an abandoned business all that remains because anything useful was removed. Such was the case at Exit 239 off of I-59 way up in northeast Alabama.

I'm sure if you've ever traveled on any interstate chances are you eventually had to pull off because you needed gas or food or a break. And you saw a business that had long since ceased operations for whatever reason. Having logged maybe a million miles in my lifetime I've certainly seen my share. A lot have nothing at all. Just an exit. But Exit 239 was special. And honestly quite eerie.

There were the remains of five separate businesses here. Four gas stations and a motel. Only one of the
four buildings remained intact. Even the billboards showed many years of neglect. The one to the left advertised a 24 hour Shell Truck Stop that eventually became the Chevron. The trees were so overgrown that you could not see the sign from the highway.

Of the five, one was completely razed. Nothing but a patch of sparse pavement and weeds. The biggest of the five, the Chevron Truck Stop, was more or less intact. By intact I mean the walls were still standing. The diesel fuel islands for trucks as well as the awning were still there. But little else. All the glass was long gone...I'm sure the handiwork of vandals. Across from the truck stop was a motel. Well, I'm pretty sure it was a motel. I'm betting not much of one as it was just concrete block construction. You can still see what was the remains of each bathroom. What I thought was odd was it appeared that someone decided to tear it down but then stopped. As if all that was required was take down 2/3rds of it and call it a day. Each room had a basement too or maybe those were a first floor. All I know is it's making a fine planter for the trees that now populate it.

Across the interstate was just a single gas station that eventually became an antique store. And that did not survive either. Just another silent reminder of a once prosperous interchange that just folded up shop and died. The area around there is very sparsely populated but exits don't cater to the locals. They try to lure in the passers by. The road warrior seeking an oasis. But for some odd reason these businesses at Exit 239 failed to do this. Maybe for a time they were successful. But that time seems so long ago.

An occasional car would go by to break the silence that is Exit 239. But, even with the passing traffic noise on the interstate, it was strangely quiet here. Walking around I felt very alone. Yes of course I was physically alone. But this was a different kind of alone. Not like a walk in the woods. It was creepy to be honest. No, I did not expect a "walker" to come out of nowhere. But when I finally shot what I needed I was quite happy to go find people again at the next exit...