As a child I remember starting out a north bound road trip with the sight of Touchdown Jesus. It took a little less than an hour to reach this monument to all that is glorious and holy about a roadside church. Usually, we were enroute to see Ma Grandmere in upstate New York. And about the time we would pass the buttery white Jesus made of holy styrofoam and godly fiberglass my eyes would grow heavy of family car time. If I close my eyes they'll think I'm sleeping and they won't talk to me.
UURURURR. *screeching hault*. Says here Touchdown Jesus was completed in September of 2004. Humm, Ma Grandmere passed away in 2000 and family trips ended somewhere around 1994. Could it be that Touchdown Jesus was only 6yrs. old? But it seemed so natural and perfectly placed with its gloriously man made pond gently rippling as tractor trailers and overloaded RVs rumbled by on Interstate 75. Well... hells... bells.
It appears though I am not alone in my reverence for the holy, holy, glorious Touchdown Jesus.
And then there are those whose speech has been stolen and can only sing the melodies of Touchdown Jesus...
