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The official photo blog of J. David Buerk Photography.

Centralia, The Graffiti Highway, and Jaguar F-Type Car Cruise

This past June, a friend and I got together for a car cruise we’d been talking about for quite some time, and the timing was perfect - he’d just taken delivery of a 2017 Jaguar F-Type S Coupe in British Racing Green, equipped with the supercharged V6 outputting 380 angry horses.  With both of us hungry to book some miles, carve up country backroads, and get some schweet car pics, we decided to take our cars cruising North into Pennsylvania, heading the general direction of Centralia, PA - an abandoned mining town with a storied history and unofficial scenic highway… of sorts.

My friend and I have discussed the ghost down of Centralia for years, and since we’ve pretty thoroughly explored the entire Shenandoah Valley in Virginia to the West, the rural roads of Fredericksburg and Charlottesville to the South, and there’s no twisty mountain passes across the Chesapeake to the East, heading North to Centralia was the perfect choice.  On our way North, we only took interstates to cross into Pennsylvania to get into the state, then as a rule we only used country roads, and we didn’t even take direct routes, often ignoring Waze’s directions to instead take more interesting looking roads heading the general direction of the town.  We stopped several times, and even ran into a Porsche driver from our same hometown who was doing the same thing as us - taking his Cayman out to carve up some twisties.

This car cruise was in the midst of the Brood X cicadas’ descent upon the region in 2021.  Even with our cars freshly cleaned for this photography car cruise, I packed my entire detailing bucket, with an extra can of bug and tar remover, grimly anticipating the disaster that our front bumpers and windshields were going to become, and dreading the amount of Photoshop it would require to remove all the carcasses from the front of our bug-plows in post.  To our surprise, just after crossing out of Maryland into Pennsylvania, we stopped hitting cicadas.  Brood X just wasn’t present, or yet active, in Pennsylvania; a fact we sensed while driving, and would add a dash of spookiness to our destination. 

Centralia, PA

Centralia is weird; there’s no getting around it.  As of 2020, the total population of this once-industrialized mining town is 5.  If, like me, you’re into the weird, obscure, odd, and macabre, you’ve probably heard of Centralia.  If you haven’t heard of Centralia, let me summarize:

Centralia is on fire.  It has been on fire since 1962.  And it is expected to be on fire for the next 250+ years.

Dating back to the late 1700s, Centralia was settled in 1841 and officially incorporated 25 years later.  Coal was discovered during railroad construction in 1854, which triggered Centralia to boom into existence just like countless other mining towns across the Northeast.  In 1890, the single-industry town reached its peak population of 2,761 residents.

Centralia operated as the small mining town it began life as until the 1960s, when the remaining underground coal mining companies shuttered, although bootleg mining of coal reportedly continued illegally until 1982.  In its history, Centralia was home to numerous murders, including that of its founder, Alexander Rae.  In the mid-to-late-1800s, the Irish secret society, “The Molly Maguires,” had a strong foothold in Centralia, among many other mining towns across Pennsylvania.  The Molly Maguires advocated for unionization of miners and improvement of wages and working conditions, often by violent means.  Legend tells that the first Catholic priest to live in Centralia, Father Daniel Ignatius McDermott, who was famously assaulted by The Molly Maguires in 1869, cursed the land of Centralia, swearing that St. Ignatius Roman Catholic Church would be the last structure to remain standing in the town.

There is some dispute over how the fire started, but on May 27th, 1962, a fire in the newly-built Centralia landfill was not properly extinguished, and was able to breach the landfill’s fireproof barrier, which had gone unmaintained by the borough responsible for its installation, expansion, and maintenance.  As the landfill had been haphazardly dug out of an old coal strip mine, the fire easily accessed veins of coal the strip mine and its underground tunnels had been cut through.  In such a coal-rich area, the interconnected veins quickly ignited and spread the smoldering blaze underground across the entire town of Centralia, and into neighboring (and ironically named) Byrnesville.

The Centralia Council mailed the Lehigh Valley Coal Company a letter serving as a legal notice of the fire, however attempted to cover up the fire’s cause in hopes to avoid liability and garner remediation funding and efforts from the Lehigh Valley Coal Company; they described the fire’s cause as “of unknown origin during a period of unusually hot weather.”  Tests of the smoke now emanating from cracks in the ground around the landfill quickly indicated carbon monoxide concentrations typical of coal fires, and by August 9th, with still no remediation efforts having been made, lethal levels of carbon monoxide were detected in active coal mines, permanently ending coal mining operations in Centralia the next day; a fatal blow to the town’s lifeblood industry.

Numerous efforts to halt the fire were made in the remaining months of 1962 and into 1963, including digging up projected routes of the blaze, building perimeters around the burning veins, and pumping a slurry of rock and water into burning zones.  All efforts failed, due to inadequate funding, scope of work, and haste, with some efforts exacerbating the subterranean fire by introducing oxygen fueling the fire and accelerating its spread.

The fire wasn’t unbeknownst to residents, however the town council of Centralia continued to downplay the fire’s severity until the 1980s, when the problem became too large to proverbially bury any longer.  In 1979 John Coddington, then-mayor of Centralia, discovered that the gasoline in the thank beneath the gas station he owned was 172°F (77.8°C).  In 1980, Centralia residents began suffering the health effects of carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide poisoning.  Famously, on Valentine’s Day, 1981, 12-year-old Todd Domboski fell through a sinkhole into a former mineshaft that had been overcome by the underground fire.  Miraculously, Domboski held onto a root and was pulled to safety out of the muddy pit of steam and lethal levels of carbon monoxide by his cousin Eric Wolfgang.  It just so happened that when the incident occurred, state officials were meeting with Centralia borough-members, and the state officials witnessed the risks the ever-expanding fire posed to residents.

This would be a turning-point in Centralia’s history, and in 1984 the United States Congress allocated $42 million (equivalent to $105 million in 2020) to relocate residents of Centralia, and neighboring Byrnesville.  Most residents took the buyouts and escaped the fire hazard, starting new lives elsewhere in the state and country, but those few that remained would be the last to inhabit the town, as in 1992 Pennsylvania governor Bob Casey condemned all buildings and enacted eminent domain on all properties within Centralia.  In 1996 the neighboring logging town of Byrnesville, which also was forced to be abandoned due to the spread of Centralia’s burning coal veins, was flattened, with only a shrine to the Blessed Virgin Mary remaining.  The USPS revoked Centralia’s ZIP code, 17927, in 2002, and in 2009, Governor Ed Rendell formally evicted the few remaining residents.  By 2013 only 7 residents remained in 2013, and after numerous legal battles, by agreement with the state of Pennsylvania, these remaining individuals are allowed to live out the rest of their lives in Centralia, and their property will be forfeited via eminent domain upon moving or their death.  In 2020, only 5 of these residents remain.

Today, Centralia is a ghost-town.  Some days one can spot puffs of smoke, steam, and carbon monoxide escaping from cracks and collapsed pits in the town.  Most people don’t even know the town once existed, as they drive through on PA Route 61; there are no signs, and almost no buildings remaining - just a small maze of potholed roads with overgrown dirt lots and crumbling foundations if you take the right unmarked turnoff from Route 61.

The only indication that something might be off while driving by Centralia is the chicane Route 61 makes, which is actually a 1mi detour that was built in the 1990s to bypass a burning coal vein beneath the road threatening its collapse.  In the mid-2000s this abandoned ¾mi stretch of road began accumulating graffiti, that pace of which picked up in 2007 following the release of the Silent Hill movie based of the eponymous video game which was modeled on Centralia’s disastrous history.  This colorful stretch of Route 61 became known as The Graffiti Highway, and was a popular, if not questionably illegal, destination for seekers of oddities and offbeat landmarks.

Father Daniel Ignatius McDermott’s curse may prove true.

The Graffiti Highway

Located adjacent the Centralia cemetery, The Graffiti Highway’s entire ¾mi of pavement and surrounding guardrail was eventually totally covered in spray painted messages and art by visitors leaving their marks to commemorate their visit.  My friend and I have wanted to visit for years, to see the spooky, post-apocalyptic ruins of Centralia, and take in the vibrance of The Graffiti Highway; I ideally would have liked to shoot some kind of edgy fashion or car shoot there, as many people have used the splotched terrain as a vivid, polychromatic backdrop.

Sadly, The Graffiti Highway is another victim of the COVID-19 pandemic, as rowdy visitors looking for an escape from lockdown boredom were holding parties and bonfires at the offbeat destination.  Pagnotti Enterprises, a Pennsylvania mining company that owns the land, decided they didn’t want the liability, and sought to discourage visitors by covering the highway with 400 loads of dirt to bury the Graffiti Highway, rather than the more appropriate route of preserving it as a designated historic site.  This effort was quick, but only time will tell how successful it was; the resulting loss is less boring-dirtpile and more dirtbikers’ paradise.

My friend and I knew we’d missed finally seeing the Highway in its full glory by a mere few months, but we still wanted to see what Centralia is all about - what collector of oddities, visitor of haunted graveyards and ghost-towns, and reader of Atlas Obscura wouldn’t want to experience such a place for themselves?  Alongside my camera gear and car detailing bucket, I brought my Polaroid knowing the bright colors, if we found any, would show up great on film.

After our circuitous cruise to Centralia, with a handful of stops, and even purposely driving the wrong direction for quite a few miles in the pursuit of good roads, we arrived in Centralia… but not before missing the turn off Route 61 like I mentioned is so easy to miss - it’s basically a dirt road that looks like it leads nowhere.  But after turning off Route 61 you know you’re in the right place because tags start populating even the roads leading into what was once the heart of Centralia, which is just overgrown as nature is already reclaiming the little left of the town.  We parked on a dirt road leading into Odd Fellows Cemetery, which borders the tract where the fire originated; although its gate was open, we didn’t enter not knowing who technically owned it, nor who monitored the large security camera aimed at its entrance.  Not far from our cars was a monitoring station, with the message carved into its concrete base:  DO NOT BACK OVER WITH TOUR BUS.

After a little moseying around, we finally found a trail that led to The Graffiti Highway - nature is quickly taking back the entire area, so it was easy to get turned around without aiming yourself with a compass and satellite imagery.  Also, just follow the trail of dicks; phallic tags and the occasional pair of boobies increasingly blazed the trail until you reach an intersection with a collapsed coal vein one one side and the Highway down a steep embankment on the other.  We steered very clear of the collapsed fire vent, which just looked like a big sinkhole, not wanting to become another Todd Domboski or succumb to invisible and odorless carbon monoxide, and slid down the embankment to The Graffiti Highway’s clearing of trees.

To our delight, there were still some spots of the Highway that were left uncovered by the dirt mounts.  But it was impressive to see such an expanse of such uniform hills spanning such a distance; it elicited the sense of moguls on a piste, but dirt instead of snow - a dirtbiker’s paradise.  Something that was very striking, however, was the amount of raw, unburnt coal present and loosely floating atop the piles of dirt and rock; for a bunch of material excavated from the “depleted and burnt up” section of the original fire, there sure was an abundance of unspent fuel dumped upon this known tract of fire.  Some coal was definitely burnt, and it would break apart under your feet or crumble in your fingers, whereas unspent coal, while still fragile, holds its form and has a sheen across its surface.  Rocks were tagged with aliens, the unofficial mascot (and visitor???) of Centralia, along with hearts, stars, and all-seeing eyes.

F-Type Car Cruise

Once we’d seen most of The Graffiti Highway (we only hiked about half of it), we scampered back up the slippery hill, passed the cemetery, and took a look over the hill down into the former site of the landfill, where Centralia’s fire first began almost 60 years ago.  There wasn’t much to see, so we didn’t bother more than peering down, as a couple we ran into confirmed there was nothing of value down there as they exited past us.  A very muddy pickup and a few ATVers also passed by on one of the numerous dirt roads around the cemetery and the Highway; we were surprised that we encountered nobody on The Graffiti Highway itself, eventhough we heard ATVs and dirtbikes buzzing around while we explored.

The sun was setting, and after taking a couple photos where we initially parked, we moved on to find some graffiti on nearby roads to grab some tagged car pictures.  Centralia is dirt and decay, so while it’s not glamorous, there is beauty in dilapidation and decay.  In between pictures, we looked around the road to see what was nearby - some of the remaining slab foundations are so overgrown you trip onto them before you spot it.  One large one seemed to be an old gas station by its layout; I can’t help but wonder if it’s the spot where John Coddington discovered his gasoline stored at almost boiling temperatures.  Once we lost the good light, we called it a day and cruised away with new memories - I didn’t bring lights, and reader beware, Centralia isn’t the safest in way of crime in addition to land hazard.

I treasured my time in Centralia, and while I’m sad I never got to see it in its vivid prime, I’m still glad I got to visit before even more of the eerie ghost-town disappears.  I’ve been absolutely swamped with photoshoots and their resulting edits this Fall, and to concentrate I’ve been delving into new podcasts.  One I immediately latched onto is The Goth Librarian Podcast; it has everything I love: obscura, oddities, crime, scandal, mystery, medical madness, and hands-down the coolest theme music ever.  I’m so sad it ended last year after only 37 episodes due to the amount of work behind it being non-compensated (no sponsors).  I finished editing the photos from this fun trip months ago this Summer; they’ve been sitting waiting for me to compose this fitting history of Centralia.  So I’ve been working on edits of a lot of other photoshoots since then, but color me delighted when I got to Episode 035: Ghost Towns which discussed Centralia, PA, the historic fire, and the resulting Graffiti Highway phenomenon.  Eventhough The Goth Librarian Podcast seems to have also been another victim of the pandemic (the host is fine, don’t worry; just the show), I can’t recommend listening to it enough.  With only 37 episodes, it only took me a few days to work my way through from beginning to end, it introduced me to new occurrences of history, refreshed me on numerous tales I already knew of, and gave me a few new museums to add to my list to visit.  Give the episode containing the story of Centralia and other ghost towns a listen here.

Regular Car Reviews - October, 2016 Car Meet

If you've never heard of Regular Car Reviews, well, first we need to get you up to speed.  RCR, as it's affectionately called, is a YouTube channel that started four short years ago, quickly gaining popularity in the car enthusiast blog circuit communities, namely Jalopnik.  Mr. Regular, the faceless (until last year) voice behind the reviews, along with music and filming assistant Roman, release a new "regular" car review each week, broken into seasons.

Regular has multiple meanings all used at once: RCR reviews "regular" cars for "regular" folks in a way a "regular" guy would see it.  In other words, RCR reviews pedestrian cars by means of pop culture references and fart jokes.  It's very popular.

Neither of my cars have been reviewed despite offering my 2001 Sebring Coupe (which DEFINITELY would have fit in perfectly) before I got rid of it, nor my G37S 6MT or Jake's Jaguar XF or Ford Cougar, but my friend Patrick's 2004 VW Phaeton was reviewed, and at the time Mr. Regular said it was a tie between the Phaeton and the Tesla Model S for the nicest "regular" car he's reviewed.  Here is the Phaeton video as an introduction.  The most iconic RCR video, however, is of modern motoring's most loved little sportscar, the answer to all questions, the Miata.

Headlights go up, headlights go down! Track day bro!

So, now you should understand RCR and the international following it's gathered.  While there have been two previous meetups, both at the same combination rec-center-and-bar (huh? small town) in Mr. Regular's hometown in Orwigsburg, Pennsylvania, those were both just pub nights - grab a few drinks and talk cars - I went to the first meetup this past January.  Mr. Regular is in fact in the picture below.

January, 2016 Regular Car Reviews meetup, posed with Silicone Sally.

January, 2016 Regular Car Reviews meetup, posed with Silicone Sally.

This weekend was special though, because it was the first time Mr. Regular has organized a car meet.  I wouldn't miss it.

The meet started at 9AM, and Orwigsburg is ~3hrs away, so Jake and I hit the road before sunrise to get there on time, even stopping for breakfast at the same Sheetz we hit every time we make the trip.

As it turns out, I was the 2nd G37 at the meet - the other was a 2013 7AT xS.  Andrew, the owner, was a really chill guy I wish I'd gotten to chat with longer.  For full disclosure, there wasn't much chatter and I didn't shoot many pictures because I was so tired - I am *not* a morning person.  I've always liked the facelifted front bumper with lower foglights (my fogs are built into the headlights), but they didn't start using that bumper until 2011MY, and my 2010 was an incredible, unheard of deal for a 6MT in black with 33K miles.  No regrets.

A fun fact some DMV residents may not know; Pennsylvania does not require front plates, which is why many of the cars at this meet lack front plates without fear of a ticket.  My car was a former lease car in Allentown, PA, so when I bought it it had no front plate mount.  I actually am running an aftermarket mount that mounts under the bumper, so if I ever wanted to remove the front plate I don't have any unsightly holes.

The PugCityRacing bagged Mustang attracted a lot of attention thanks to its lowrider status and stripped interior - simplify and add lightness.

There were plenty of other regular cars on hand, including a few TDIs awaiting refund checks.

I was informed that caffeine adds +25HP.

You can never go wrong with a W10 or W20 MR2; I am wondering if they are undergoing some kind of revival, because this is the 2nd one I've seen in the last two weeks.

For me, the AE86s were the most interesting "regular" cars on hand... until the Infiniti M30 Convertible rolled in at the end of the show.  Apparently it shares engine, suspension, and electronic bits with the Maxima of the time, but has the frame of the previous generation Maxima (even though it looks like the equal gen Maxima).  I actually didn't know this car was made in drop-top form until this weekend.  The car was only produced for 3 years, and Nissan contracted American Sunroof Corporation to convert half of the M30s into convertibles brand new.  The 1992 M30 was Infiniti's only convertible until the G37 convertible was introduced in 2009 (one year after the G37 coupe and sedan were introduced to replace the G35 / 350Z platform).  I totally fan-girled over this car.  This is a car from the late 80s with an electronically adjustable suspension (Comfort / Sport switch on center console).

The star of the show of course was Mr. Regular's very own Vagabond Falcon, which if you follow Regular Car Reviews on YouTube, you've watched Mr. Regular complete a full restoration to the car.  Silicone Sally, the 2007 Honda Fit funded by RCR viewers was not on hand this time around.

I love Instagram Stories (hate Snapchat though), so here is my Story from the day; check out the crazy amount of play in the stick of this Ford... Fox Body(?)... ...Mustang???

Sorry for the long post; have a corgi!!!

A Sebring Farewell

If you regularly read my blog, follow my photography, or know anything about me at all, you already know I'm somewhat of a "car guy."  Many of you already know that I recently replaced my first car - as all car people know, this is an emotional experience.  I've been into photography *almost* as long as I was rolling around in my first car; a 2001 Chrysler Sebring Coupe LXi (3.0L V6), affectionately known among car communities as the "Eclipse Clone" thanks to its complete underpinnings of a 3rd generation Mitsubishi Eclipse... which explains its notoriously abysmal reliability.  But more on that later.

Today's blog post is a kind of tribute to the life of my first car, as well as showing a glimpse into how my photography has grown and changed over the years.  It is more of a personal post than a professional one, so bear with me.  I have been busy with shoots lately as well, which are coming to the blog soon; for now, just enjoy this trip down memory lane with me - to a car guy, replacing your first car is a major life event, which I'd like to share with you.

Here I am in May of 2005, after driving the Sebring (my first car) home from the dealership.

As a Junior in high school, I'd ride the bus home, drop my bag off, get something to eat, and drive back to the school an hour later for Track practice.  My first trip in the car was with a friend to Sheetz for an orange Slurpee.  It was glorious.

At the time I was working my first job; a Student Ambassador (also known as a "Yellow Shirt") at Washington Dulles International Airport.  This job introduced me to individuals I still work closely with to this day.  Here I am getting in, as shot by one of my old co-workers.

A few pictures of me driving, from 2006 and 2011.

 Of course, as the driver, most of my time was spent behind the wheel.  In 2009 I was taking film photography courses in college, and one of my favorite film photos was taken while driving through a tunnel in DC.  This photo has been included in my website ever since I finally got one in 2011.  Contrary to appearance and logic, the bright light on the dash is NOT the Check Engine Light; it is instead the foglight indicator (when it worked - this light eventually burnt out, and was never able to be fixed - so fitting for this car's reliability record).

Likewise, one of my most asked about car photos was made around the same time - this was before GoPro was a thing, but I used a small camera with suction mount similar to the now endless GoPro videos online.  Until GoPro cameras came into existence, I frequently was questioned how the photo was taken - most assumed (very incorrectly) that I leaned out the window while driving.  Wow - uh, don't do that.

It didn't matter where I am; as long as it is interesting, I snap photos of car.  Although it was NOT a Subaru, I did get it filthy...

...to the point where the paint color was indeterminate...

...including the chrome rims...

...on multiple occasions.

It was mostly kept clean though.

Amazingly, that was the only true photoshoot the Sebring ever got.  It wasn't until a few years ago I really began shooting local car culture... and somehow I never photographed my own car.  Not in the way I go about photographing cars now; trying to capture details about their personalities.

So in my Sebring's final hours, I gave it the shoot it never had.  I captured every little detail about the car.  Little details I may forget later in life.  The infinite cracks in its horribly designed rigid-plastic dash.  How the trunk release lever worked.  The driver's seat view.  Everything I loved and hated about the ride.

At the end, it barely ran.  The engine was shot.  The suspension failing.  The car had been a money-pit for years (Mitsubishi).  Something new has been LONG overdue.

So here's the video: The Sebring's last moments with me.  The engine was so forgone no dealership would take it for trade-in despite how pretty it looked for a 14 year old car, so it was donated to a good charity who will decide how best to proceed.  You'll understand why as soon as you hit Play.

And that ending... those last seconds as it departs the driveway... there is no better fitting finale to a car that had so many mechanical and electrical nightmares.

A Sebring Farewell

See the tribute and heritage: http://jdavidbuerk.com/blog/2015330-a-sebring-farewellThe Sebring's final moments. The engine was shot (among other things, as you can hear), and this is video of the last time I ever saw it. For car guys, letting your first car go is an emotional experience.

Posted by David Buerk on Wednesday, April 1, 2015

So here I am seconds before the car left - the last time I touched it...

...and the scrape heard 'round the World.  You can't hear it in the video, but the tow driver also nailed the Sebring on a speed hump down the street.  It was 10x more cringeworthy, if you can imagine.

A photo of myself with both cars.

I actually DID manage to grab a few glamour shots of both cars together.  Jake graciously limped the Sebring to another location so I could get different angles.

Ironically, the battery died in the 10 minutes we took these pictures... between not being driven for several weeks since the G37 was purchased, and how it had been plagued with electrical problems for several years, the serendipity was less than surprising (for the last 6 months, the alarm would randomly go off if left out in the rain - it would need to be left to dry with the battery disconnected for several days before drivable again).

... and I didn't have jumper cables in the G37 yet.  So we had to ditch it and come back with cables.

Driving Forward

By now you clearly see that I've replaced the 2001 Chrysler Sebring with a 2010 Infiniti G37 S 6MT.

It hasn't been given it's own proper photoshoot yet; I've been waiting for nicer weather, prettier backdrops, and the opportunity to go on a mini-roadtrip.  It will get it's own photo post later on.

To end, I'll leave you with the few photos I have taken of the new ride.

Taking delivery at the dealer.

Baby's first fill-up, car wash, and making friends at DCA.  And I had similar car requirements to Kelly: Stick shift, and butt warmers.

I've actually already gotten it covered in mud, at a photoshoot no-less.  Melting snow + dirt roads + horse farm = muddy Infiniti.  Shockingly, I only took photos of the couple; not the messy car.

To finish, I'll leave you with a photo from present day - getting wings with a few great friends dating back to high school track: something of a reborn tradition (we used to get wings here after track practices).  Today, although we all find ourselves with different schedules, we always have time for lunchtime wings every couple weeks or so.

Joe is another car guy, with his tuned RDX Turbo, and Omar has a bug for sports coupes like myself - just a few days ago he picked up this Genesis 3.8 (the other model car I was considering against the G37), replacing his Tiburon (a car I was eyeballing before getting the Sebring).

The friendship lives on.