Places esftripod Wants to Go

The pit stop from "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" now serves beef and pork barbecue, not people.

This tiny, hurricane-resistant house in Galveston is one of the city's most notable architectural oddities.

This old abandoned sign flickers to announce a motel that isn't even there.

A decaying concrete oil tanker served as a disposal location for bootleg hootch.

This soda factory is one of the last in America to use real cane sugar despite the protestations of Dr Pepper.

On a dusty county road sit the ruins of a ghost town's abandoned church.

This museum showcases the history and contributions of the U.S. Army to the medical industry, both on the battlefield and off.

A registered historic landmark shrouded in unsettling local legends.

Once in disrepair, this popular Texas stop along iconic Route 66 has been restored to its past glory.

Turning night into day in Victorian-era Austin to thwart a serial killer.

This sacred cavern, 400 feet deep, is home to millions of bats and an ancient burial ground.

Housed in a century-old building, this museum's dedicated not just to soft drinks, but to the free enterprise system.

This crumbling UFO is one of only a few remaining "moveable ski chalets" of its kind.

The innocent intentions of this monument are somewhat lost in the sculpture's muscled imagery.

This grisly headstone doesn’t seem to be resting in peace.

Part of a WWII submarine is lurking outside the Washington Navy Yard parking lot.

‘Bush the old fire dog died of poison July 5th, 1869. RIP.’

These abandoned waterworks are crumbling into the Potomac River.

A derelict bit of infrastructure from the canal that once ran through D.C. is landlocked in the heart of the city.

Before Metro, Washington had a robust streetcar network—and you see the remains of this infrastructure if you know where to look.

This forgotten boat elevator was an engineering marvel in its heyday.

Washington's top-secret Cold War-era doomsday communications tower is located in a small neighborhood park.

Senators used to relax in the nearly forgotten marble tubs now hidden in the U.S. Capitol Building's basement.

A much-maligned monument to teetotalism.