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Massive and made of fiberglass, Muffler Men are a Route 66 classic — and they’re multiplying

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Massive and made of fiberglass, Muffler Men are a Route 66 classic — and they’re multiplying

The snow was flying sideways and he had no jacket, but this lumberjack did not shiver. He stood about 25 feet tall, ax in hand, wearing a red hat and rictus grin. And he was made of fiberglass.

I stood at his feet on the Northern Arizona University campus in Flagstaff, full of the satisfaction that comes at having accomplished something truly trivial: At last, I was face to face with the original Muffler Man.

100 Years of Route 66

Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road

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Easter Island has its stone-faced monoliths. China has its terra-cotta warriors. And we Americans have these roadside giants, also known as Paul Bunyans, Uniroyal Gals and most commonly, Muffler Men. Manufactured in Los Angeles, they first appeared on the highways of North America in the early 1960s as an advertising gimmick, often promoting car lots or car parts. Now they’re rising again, a battalion of restored and replica specimens, beloved by road-trippers, kitsch aficionados, artists, preservationists and savvy entrepreneurs.

“To me, they’re kind of instant friends,” said Amy Inouye, the designer and artist who rescued L.A.’s most iconic Muffler Man, Chicken Boy, a chicken-headed statue that stands atop her gallery in Highland Park. “They’re really tall and they just want to be accepted for who they are.”

The Northern Arizona University campus in Flagstaff includes the first oversized fiberglass "muffler man."

The Northern Arizona University campus in Flagstaff includes the first oversize fiberglass Muffler Man, who has long been outfitted as a lumberjack.

These figures are especially plentiful along Route 66 this year as it turns 100 — there was a “pre-centennial frenzy” in the words of roadsideamerica.com, which coined the term “Muffler Men” and tracks them on a map. Nobody’s certain how many figures were made during the golden age of Muffler Men, but since 2020, the tally of giants has climbed above 250, including “a few dozen” rediscoveries since 2010, according to Doug Kirby, the co-founder and publisher of the site.

“Just in the last year or two, all these Muffler Men are being added,” he said. In addition, more than a dozen giants are currently in transition — that is, getting reconditioned or relocated.

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1.) Cigars and Stripes BBQ in Berwyn, Ill., features a Muffler Man smoking a cigar and holding a jumbo bottle of barbecue sauce.
Gemini Giant is a "muffler man" who stands along Route 66 in Wilmington, Ill.

1.) Cigars and Stripes BBQ in Berwyn, Ill., features a Muffler Man smoking a cigar and holding a jumbo bottle of barbecue sauce. 2.) The Gemini Giant stands along Route 66 in Wilmington, Ill.

On a recent westbound journey from Chicago on Route 66, I started seeing them almost immediately.

First, on Ogden Avenue in the Chicago suburb of Berwyn, there was the Cigars & Stripes Muffler Man. He stood on the roof of the Cigars & Stripes BBQ Lounge, brandishing a chicken wing and a fridge-size bottle of barbecue sauce while chewing on a stogie.

Next, in Wilmington, Ill., came the Gemini Giant, who stands 23 feet tall above a tiny park. Made for a Wilmington diner in 1965, he was auctioned off for $275,000 in early 2024 and placed in his current location later that year. He wears a clunky silver space helmet and holds a rocket in his hands.

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I had come across a few Muffler Men before this trip, including Big Josh, who looks down upon Joshua Tree from the Station gift shop on State Route 62. But now I was paying more attention.

At first, I learned, these giants were all men, conceived around 1962 by a Lawndale entrepreneur named Bob Prewitt and made popular from the early 1960s through the mid-1970s by a company in Venice called International Fiberglass.

Made from a standard set of molds and held together by steel frames, most Muffler Men are assembled from three or four pieces. Besides those figures holding mufflers and tires, others were outfitted as cowboys, Indians, lumberjacks (often known as Paul Bunyans), astronauts, chefs, dentists, golfers, hot dog vendors, race-car drivers, pirates and service-station attendants. Then there were the jug-eared goofball characters, which some scholars of the art form call halfwits, while others prefer snerds.

As interest in this kind of advertising grew, female giants followed, including Uniroyal Gals and Rosie the Riveters. Oversized animals, including dinosaurs, bulls, roosters, hens and seals, also multiplied.

Juni Peraza, 25, works at the Meadow Gold Mack retail shop on 11th Street in Tulsa.

Juni Peraza, 25, works at the Meadow Gold Mack retail shop on 11th Street in Tulsa, Okla. She said she has only recently realized the possibilities that come with 11th Street being part of Route 66.

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All that action faded in the 1970s. But in about 1989, the seeds of a new Muffler Man era were sown.

Kirby, Mike Wilkins and Ken Smith, who had worked together on the 1985 book “Roadside America,” were building a database for a follow-up project when they realized, “Hey, wait, this configuration of statue we’re seeing in a lot of places,” Kirby said. “We decided we’d better start keeping track.”

The first few they saw were holding mufflers. Thinking of the old nursery rhyme “Muffin Man,” and a Frank Zappa song of the same name, Kirby decided to call them Muffler Men.

When the roadsideamerica.com website launched in 1996, Muffler Men were part of it. By 2000, Roadside America had uncovered their origin story and interviewed Steve Dashew, former president of International Fiberglass. And readers had embraced the giants in a big way.

This fiberglass Rosie the Riveter figure went up on 11th Street in Tulsa in 2025.

This fiberglass Rosie the Riveter figure went up on 11th Street in Tulsa in 2025.

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“It was like a religious epiphany for some people. For years, they were driving past these things,” Kirby said. “As soon as they realized it was part of an uncharted network across the country … it’s like your third eye has been opened.”

Ken Bernstein, principal city planner for Los Angeles Office of Historic Resources, calls Muffler Men “monumental and distinctive representations of midcentury car culture, especially along auto-centric corridors where it was important to catch the eye of passing motorists.”

New giants, known as custom jobs, are being steadily manufactured now. There’s an entire economic community emerging around their restoration, replication, sales, transport and display, including companies like (Re)Giant and sculptor Mark Cline’s Enchanted Castle Studios. (To confuse matters, many Southern California mechanics woo customers by welding together mufflers to make human figures. Those creations, too, are often called Muffler Men.)

The American Giants Museum in Atlanta, Ill., created in 2024 by Bill Thomas of the Atlanta Betterment Fund and collector-historian Joel Baker, is devoted to the fiberglass figures. The museum, open April through October, includes four standing Muffler Men, with two more expected around Memorial Day.

Because the giants stand in the open air, visitors who show up after hours — as I did — can ogle them any time.

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The American Giants Museum, which celebrates the "muffler men" and "Uniroyal women."

Atlanta, Ill., is home to the American Giants Museum, which celebrates the Muffler Men and Uniroyal Gals that were common roadside advertising features in the middle 20th century.

“I love history. I love anything to do with cars and old advertisements. I think it just takes people back,” said Lee Woods, 55, who jumped on the Muffler Men bandwagon about five years ago and owns the museum.

Woods and his wife, Diane, who have a fleet of tow trucks in Hot Springs, Ark., were collecting old porcelain gas station signs, gas pumps and old cars in 2021 when, on a drive through Illinois, they laid eyes on the Gemini Giant.

“I told my wife I would love to have one of them things to represent our tow company,” Woods recalled.

Before long, they had hired someone to build a custom tow-truck-operator Muffler Man. And before that Muffler Man was done, Lee Woods had bought another one — a Paul Bunyan in Oklahoma. Then in 2023 he got a hold of a Muffler Man Mr. Spock from Rainbow Neon in Salt Lake City. Now Woods has eight Muffler Men in Arkansas.

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“Sometimes I get carried away, my wife says,” Woods said.

Last fall, he bought the museum, where he collaborates with Baker, who is founder of the American Giants website, creator of a Giants YouTube series and serves as a Muffler Man broker, consultant and transportation specialist.

“When people see these things, they think they’re the coolest thing out there,” Woods said. “Today we’ve had people from six different countries here.”

Cowboy Bob is one of several oversize fiberglass mascots along 11th Street in the Meadow Gold District of Tulsa.
Meadow Gold Mack, a friendly lumberjack about 20 feet tall, is mascot for a shop of the same name on 11th Street in Tulsa.
3.) A Muffler Man near Gearhead Curios in Galena, Kan.
The 2nd Amendment Cowboy.

1.) Cowboy Bob, who is about 20 feet tall, plays guitar and wears a bolo tie, is one of several oversize fiberglass mascots along 11th Street in the Meadow Gold District of Tulsa. 2.) Meadow Gold Mack, a friendly lumberjack, is mascot for a shop of the same name on 11th Street in Tulsa. 3.) A Muffler Man near Gearhead Curios in Galena, Kan. 4.) The 2nd Amendment Cowboy is a fiberglass giant that stands at the entrance to a trailer park near the art installation Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, Texas.

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From here, the giants seemed to come fast and furious. One in Galena, Kan. Two in Vinita, Okla. (which has since added a third). Five in Tulsa’s Meadow Gold District (including one with an 8-foot-long guitar).

Then in Weatherford, Okla., came a 30-foot astronaut. In Amarillo, a “2nd Amendment Cowboy” with a pair of big pistols at his feet. In Gallup, N.M., a giant on the roof of a used car lot.

By the time I’d reached Flagstaff, my count was 18.

Then came my snowy moment with the original Muffler Man, whose nickname is Louie. Experts agree that he was produced in about 1963 and sent to a Flagstaff cafe with a lumberjack theme (and yes, that cafe stood along Route 66).

Louie stood there until the cafe closed more than 10 years later. Then he was donated to NAU and stationed by the ticket office of the university’s Walkup Skydome. Another lumberjack stands inside.

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But after Louie, I hit a drought — no more giant sightings in Arizona and none on the Route 66 alignment I followed into Southern California.

This seemed wrong, because there are so many giants along the byways of Southern California and because this is the land of their birth. Besides Big Josh, there’s the Paul Bunyan in Mentone, the empty-handed Muffler Man known as Kevin on Sherman Way in Van Nuys. There’s the flag-wielding Porsche Muffler Man in Carson (who previously served in the same spot as a club-brandishing Golf Man). And there are plenty of others.

It didn’t seem right to end the journey without another sighting. So I made my way to Highland Park to meet the one who rules the roost.

More specifically, I headed for 5558 N. Figueroa St., which was on the path of Route 66 for several years in the 1930s and which is the home of Chicken Boy.

Blessed with the customized head of a chicken, the body of a Muffler Man and a bucket in his hands (for eating chicken?), Chicken Boy stood for years atop the Chicken Boy fried-chicken restaurant on Broadway downtown, inspiring writer Art Fein to label him “L.A.’s Statue of Liberty.”

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After the restaurant was shuttered in 1984, Inouye swooped in to rescue Chicken Boy and place him in protective storage — for years, as it turned out.

The fiberglass statue known as Chicken Boy stands on the roof of artist Amy Inouye's studio in Highland Park.

The fiberglass statue known as Chicken Boy stands on the roof of artist, designer and gallerist Amy Inouye’s studio on Figueroa Street in Highland Park.

In October 2007, after she and longtime partner Stuart Rapeport had bought the Highland Park studio space and pulled permits, Inouye put Chicken Boy back together again and set him up on the roof. There he remains, sharing space with a billboard, visible up and down the block between Avenue 55 and Avenue 56.

If a nomination by L.A. preservationist Charles J. Fisher goes through, Chicken Boy could become the first Muffler Man declared a city historic-cultural monument. And if you drop by the Future Studio Gallery on a Saturday between noon and 3 p.m. or 4 p.m., you’ll likely find Inouye, now 74, along with a trove of Chicken Boy T-shirts, patches, pencils and ceramic treasure boxes.

But seeing Chicken Boy is its own reward, especially after seeing so many of his fiberglass cousins. I got there on a balmy afternoon, beheld Chicken Boy’s beak gleaming in the sun, and knew my mission was complete.

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Lifestyle

‘The Trojan Teddy Bear’: The promise and peril of childhood in the age of AI

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‘The Trojan Teddy Bear’: The promise and peril of childhood in the age of AI

In A.I. Artificial Intelligence, Monica introduces Teddy to David. The seemingly ordinary teddy bear quickly reveals himself to be an intelligent companion capable of conversation and emotional support.

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Back in 2001, Steven Spielberg released an underrated scifi movie named A.I. Artificial Intelligence (yes, the title is a bit redundant). The movie, which loosely borrows from Pinocchio, tells the story of a family who adopts a robotic boy programmed for love, and that robot’s heartbreaking quest to become a real boy.

Much of the technology in A.I. remains elusive. We’re probably not anywhere close to building androids that can convincingly pass as Haley Joel Osment — or Jude Law, for that matter. But some of the AI products imagined in the movie are starting to look surprisingly plausible. Take Teddy, an animatronic teddy bear. Teddy can walk, talk, make decisions, and respond to the needs and emotions of people around him. He’s more than just a toy. He’s an intelligent companion and protector for children.

Today, a slew of technology companies are developing AI companions that sort of resemble Teddy. The most intelligent AI chatbots still live on digital screens, but a wave of startups is giving them bodies — creating dolls, action figures, and robots that can serve as companions for kids.

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What happens when kids grow up with AI?

AI is already a part of childhood. Recommendation algorithms curate what many kids watch and listen to. Chatbots stand ready to answer questions like, “Are monsters real?” or “Why is the sky blue?” They can help with homework, tell bedtime stories, or even feel like a friend. And companies are racing to embed AI into toys, nurseries, classrooms, and eventually robots that live alongside families.

In a new book, Human Raised: Nurturing Connection, Curiosity & Lifelong Learning in the Age of AI, author Dana Suskind grapples with what the rising tide of artificial intelligence means for raising kids. On the one hand, she acknowledges that the technology offers promise as, for example, a productivity enhancer and time saver for parents, a monitoring and research tool that can give parents and scientists valuable data on child development, and an interactive tutor that might help some kids learn.

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It’s time for the night trip to the beach — the grunion are running

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It’s time for the night trip to the beach — the grunion are running

One of the most magical and underrated natural wonders of the American West is about to unfold across California beaches.

In four-day periods every year from March to August, legions of small, silver fish called grunion ride the waves ashore for mating rituals, beginning on the nights of the full and new moons.

But this isn’t just any fish spawning.

First, the females bury themselves halfway in the sand with only their heads sticking out and lay their eggs. Then, the males wriggle up and twist and wrap around them. It’s a rare and mysterious orgy unfolding in the dead of night. And it’s all out in the open for public viewing.

For some SoCal families, watching the grunion run is an annual summer tradition. There have been several runs already this year, with sightings reported from La Jolla to Ventura. Another is expected to start Tuesday night.

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When the grunions will be running

Grunion mate on Cabrillo Beach in San Pedro on June 5, 2023.

(Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times)

This week’s run is predicted go from Tuesday to Friday.

The fish come up on the sand for about two hours at night, as the high tide starts to ebb, usually between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. The second hour is when the spawning picks up.

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The second and third night of the four-night runs tend to be best to see grunion, according to the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. The first night, Tuesday night, is the least predictable.

The agency publishes a schedule of what days and times to expect the ritual, based on moon cycles and the timing at San Pedro’s Cabrillo Beach, a known grunion hotspot.

But it all varies.

“The further south that you go, the grunion tend to show up a little bit earlier, and if you go further to the north, they tend to show up a little bit later,” said CDFW environmental scientist Malcolm Tunnell. “We don’t fully understand this. They are a cryptic species.”

Where to see them

Grunion are a native species and only live off the coast of southern California and northern Mexico. Their usual range is from Santa Barbara to Baja California, although it has been shifting north as climate change heats the oceans.

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While you can expect to see grunion in SoCal, the exact beaches where they decide to spawn is something of a mystery, depending on the tides, the sands and the conditions encountered by the scout fish grunion send out before they decide where to mate.

“We usually say, if it’s a beach where there’s surfing, they like the same surfing waves that people like,” said Karen Martin, a professor of biology at Pepperdine University and leading grunion expert. “But really, any beach that has a nice, wide area where they can come ashore is a potential beach.”

Martin runs a group where citizen scientists can report observations. She said this year the runs have not been as abundant as in the past, but “there have been some nice ones, even earlier this month.”

The CDFW recommends checking social media and calling local lifeguards to ask if grunions have been spotted. Bait and tackle shops may also be able to point you in the right direction.

What are the rules for catching grunion

Grunion face threats from development on the coast, sea level rise, changes in storm dynamics and hunting, said Martin.

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Since the 1920s, populations have shown signs of decline on-and-off. To protect grunion during their peak spawning period, CDFW prohibits fishing from April through June.

The season is open now with a limit of 30 per person; they can only be caught by hand, and anyone over 16 needs to have a fishing license.

Flashlights should be used sparingly, so as not to disrupt them.

“The ideal thing would be to just watch, but if you feel compelled to catch, maybe consider catch and release,” said Martin.

A fish that lives in such a limited geography, she said, needs our care.

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“It’s a really remarkable fish.”

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Why your favorite international artist might be reconsidering their next U.S. tour

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Why your favorite international artist might be reconsidering their next U.S. tour

Here’s something American concertgoers might not know: before a musician from another country can take the stage in the U.S., someone has to file paperwork with the federal government on their behalf. And not just any paperwork — a petition, hundreds of pages long, stacked with press clippings, award documentation, testimonial letters from other artists, venue contracts, a detailed tour itinerary, and evidence that the artist is legitimately accomplished at what they do.

And that’s just to start the clock in a process that may take over a year to complete.

This is the reality for international artists — from musicians to painters, dancers to comedians — who want to come to the U.S. to share their work. It’s a complicated, expensive process that arts advocates say has long made the country a difficult place for foreign artists to access. But now, they say it’s gotten much worse.

The time it takes to process a visa has dramatically increased. The number of available interview slots at U.S. embassies is backlogged. Application costs have surged. And there’s an added layer of uncertainty: paperwork can be perfect, fees can be paid, and yet artists still can be turned away at the border.

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For U.S. audiences, all of this means a quiet loss of global cultural exchange.

What does the artist visa process look like?

To illustrate the nonimmigrant visa process for artists, let’s take Kongero, a small, Swedish folk a cappella group that completed its second U.S. tour last fall.

First step: File a petition.

The group’s booking agent planned the tour and gathered all the necessary documentation to file a petition with U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) to demonstrate that the group qualified for a P-3 visa, the category for culturally unique artists.

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