It's the mid-2000s and I'm in the backseat of my family's minivan driving down Pennsylvania

Interstate 78.

We're on our way to Lancaster and pass by all the familiar sites, Cabellas,

loves McDonald's and Crystal Cave. And up ahead on the left, I see two larger

than life statues of an Amish man and woman waving at the highway.

Next to them in big red letters is the attraction's name, Roadside America. And whenever I could convince my parents to veer off the highway and venture inside together,

we would find a 6,000 square foot miniature village filled with tiny buildings, trees, people, and trains.

But if you were driving down I-78 today, or any anytime since early 2021, there would be no Amish statues to greet you and no

miniature village to marvel at. But if you know where to look, you may still be able to find some of the pieces today.

I'm Kylie Miller and this is Atlas Obscura, a celebration of the world's strange, incredible, and wondrous places.

Today we're traveling to Charlottesville, Pennsylvania to discover how one man built this miniature village by hand and find out how the pieces

ended up spread out across the country.

More after this. I grew up about 45 minutes away from roadside America.

The first time I visited was an elementary school field trip to Harrisburg.

Roadside America was a perfect midway stopping point for a group of

third graders to blow off some steam. I remember entering the building and being

absolutely amazed at the exhibit.

There were over 300 little houses and buildings,

creating vignettes with trees, people, streetlights, and cars. As a kid, the miniature village looked

like an ultimate doll house. I wanted to jump into the display and play with the

figurines like they were my personal barbies.

Trains zipped by going over 2,000 feet of miniature railroad tracks and there were buttons

...