When the auto sector’s hurting, dealers feel the pain and these closed and abandoned auto dealerships are the poster-kids of decline in a once-proud industry.

The Buick Stops Here

Take Rassas Buick, a GM dealership in Red Bank, NJ that closed after an astonishing 83 years in business because, according to Flickr member Jazz Guy, “GM wants to right-size markets it considers overfranchised.” Too bad the braintrust at GM couldn’t let the market decide which dealerships were viable and which ones weren’t… applied capitalism, one might say.

Hardt Earned

Here’s the former Earnhardt Ford in Tempe, AZ, as photo-documented inside and out by Flickr member oati in March of 2008. The self-proclaimed “#1 In Arizona” Ford dealership may have moved to a presumably bigger and better location (or perhaps a smaller, more economical one considering the move took place in the midst of the Great Recession) but geez, did they ever leave a mess behind!

No A for Effort

Are they open to closing? We don’t know the circumstances revolving around this apparently stillborn GM dealership in (we’re guessing) Colma, CA but kudos to Flickr member Dave Fayram anyway. Timing is everything when it comes to photography… and to auto sales, for that matter.

Like A Rose

Bronx car dealer Sam M Rose passed away in 1990 at the age of 77, leaving the remnants of his long-time Chevy dealership behind. Fast-forward to the summer of 2009 and Rose Chevrolet’s big neon bowtie sign still loomed over Fordham Road, roughly three decades after Rose’s namesake dealership closed. A tip ‘o the cap to Flickr member Traci Lawson for snapping this shot and it’s a good thing she did: according to one commenter, the venerable sign was finally removed in 2016.

M Squared

Towards the end of the twentieth century, a trend developed where disparate auto dealerships congregated together in sprawling “auto centers” in a bid to attract more customers. Trouble was, most customers only want to buy one car regardless of how many different dealerships are clustered around them. The result? Something like the former Metro Auto Center in Tucson, AZ, snapped in July of 2011 by Flickr member Ginger Bidwell.

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Lot In America 10 More Abandoned Auto Dealerships

Painted pump jacks with plenty of personality put the “pet” into petroleum at the venerable and vanishing Iron Zoo in and around Coalinga, California.

Formerly known as “Coaling Station A”, the town of Coalinga in Fresno County hitched its wagon to a different type of fossil fuel once the Coalinga Oil Field was discovered in the late 1880s. The subsequent oil boom peaked in the 1910s with pump jacks and steam injectors gradually replacing derricks. By the late 1960s one couldn’t swing a cat without hitting a pump jack… sparking a brainstorm in one Coalinga-area resident who wondered how the ubiquitous “nodding donkeys” could work for the greater good. Or at least, for her greater good.

Jean Dakessian Jones and her husband owned a motel that – due to the recent opening of Interstate 5 – was vacant more often than not. Jones knew she had to find some way to attract more traffic (literally) to their motel. Inspiration struck in the form of the pump jacks, whose form & function lent itself to artistic modification. “I had never seen oil pumps like those,” recounted Jones, “and my imagination saw them as all kinds of creatures. I thought that if people came off the freeway they would see a painted pump, go a little farther to see the next one, and on and on until they made it to Coalinga and saw our wonderful and inviting motor lodge. It worked!” And with that, the “Iron Zoo” was born.

Many of Jones’ painted pump jacks are off the beaten path with the most-photographed example – the zebra – being the most accessible. The images above were snapped by Flickr members Emerald Wu (whiteskylight) and 1Flatworld in 2013 and 2007, respectively. Note the ominous confluence of warning signs… it may be smelly but this is definitely not your average zoo!

Pumpjack Pennywise

To say the Iron Zoo had humble beginnings would be an understatement – it started with a single painted pump jack. Of course, the pump jacks weren’t Jones’ property and trespassing laws are rigorously enforced both for the safety of the public and to protect the companies from legal liability. Flickr member David Cohen (zampano!!!) captured this somewhat disturbing clown (aren’t ALL clowns somewhat disturbing?) in December of 2007.

Refuel Refugees

Jones played by the rules and in 1971 she contacted Marshall Newkirk, site manager for Shell Oil in Coalinga. To her surprise and delight, she found an ally in Newkirk. “After I painted the first one,” explained Jones, “he ran it by the head office and they gave me the green light to continue.”

Not only did Shell approve of Jones’ plan, they even chipped in to cover the cost of the paint – no small expense considering the company owned 23 pump jacks. By mid-1973, Jones had painted all of Shell’s pump jacks… and boy, were her arms tired. Flickr member Arlette captured the above bobbing goat in September of 2009.

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Petroleum Pets Coalingas Vanishing Iron Zoo

The toll exacted from the earth for human progress is rarely more dramatically visible than from overhead, looking down onto the mines, oil fields, salt flats, recycling yards and other artificial landscapes we’ve created to maintain a population that has exploded since the 1950s. Photographer Edward Burtynsky, who has been flying all over the world capturing aerial images of these scenes since long before the arrival of Google Earth, now sees human activity as expanding “like a rogue species… stretching the boundaries and limits of what we can do in nature.”

How have we changed the shape of the Earth since the dawn of the industrial age? The human population on Earth has expanded by nearly a billion every decade, and in our constant quest for lives of comfort and plenty, we ravenously consume natural resources and radically alter the landscapes we depend on for our own survival. Burtynsky has produced a series of photo collections in 11 categories like water, oil, mines, ship breaking, tailings and quarries to show that our appetites have put our own future in jeopardy.

Accepting his 2005 TED Prize for his stunning work, Burtynsky said he hopes that these images will help persuade millions of people around the world to join a global conversation on sustainability.

“These images are meant as metaphors to the dilemma of our modern existence; they search for a dialogue between attraction and repulsion, seduction and fear. We are drawn by desire – a chance at good living, yet we are consciously or unconsciously aware that the world is suffering for our success. Our dependence on nature to provide the materials for our consumption and our concern for the health of our planet sets us into an uneasy contradiction. For me, these images function as reflecting pools of our times.”

These closed and abandoned bicycle factories are relics of a bygone era before two-wheeled vehicles were supplanted by those with four wheels and an engine.

One of those old-timey bike factories was Memphis Cycle & Supply.  Flickr user Robby Virus captured the still majestic though graffiti-marred exterior of the building in April of 2016. ADANAY documented the interior while helping to clear the place out three months later.

Memphis Cycle & Supply appears to have closed around 2010-11 as photos taken before that time show un-boarded windows with stock on display. Flickr user Joe Pusateri (Jo Teri) snapped the building after dark on June 19th of 2011… a brave endeavor as the neighborhood is a tad sketchy to say the least. Curiously, the slipping “S” of the signage was repaired by the time Robby Virus snapped his photos in 2016, after drooping perilously for roughly a decade.

Hungary No Longer

Schwinn is perhaps the most iconic brand name in American cycling history. Founded in 1895, the company’s products enriched many a child’s formative years. Schwinn declared bankruptcy in 1992 after losing a long battle to remain competitive with lower-cost manufacturers in the Far East. A failed joint venture with post-communist Hungarian firm Csepel shows the company didn’t go out without a fight, however. The images above by Flickr users Karl Eerola (keerola) and Waterford Precision Bicycles (waterfordbikes) were taken on November 28th of 2010 and July 26th of 2012, respectively.

Philadelphia Freewheelin’

The Haverford Bicycle Factory at 448 North 10th Street in Philadelphia made Black Beauty bikes “The bicycle with a national reputation” but that didn’t stop it from shutting the doors when the flow of red ink proved unquenchable. Why the company went under in 1924 – in the midst of the Roaring Twenties – is a mystery; the grand red brick factory wasn’t more than twenty or so years old at the time. Flickr user Neil Fitzpatrick (joiseyboyy) captured the color-saturated image above on July 9th of 2010.

After sitting abandoned for years, the imposing building together with its smaller white adjunct was finally sold in 2015 for $2.75 million. Construction is currently underway to re-purpose the gutted structure as an “office/creative space” overlooking the newly-gentrified Callowhill neighborhood. Nice that the developers saw fit to retain the building’s historic painted-brick signage; appropriate that future tenants should bike to and from work.

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Search For Spoke 8 Closed Abandoned Bicycle Factories

These abandoned soap factories sure look filthy… if only there was something that could scrub away the dirt & grime, making them look shiny and new again.

The old abandoned Wink Soap Company building in Racine, Wisconsin was built in 1900 though Wink didn’t move in until 1938. The company then proceeded to make soap like it was going out of style – it wasn’t but Wink was, shutting down their soap-making operations in 1980. The building, still sporting its handsome though faded painted sign, looks like it closed fairly recently instead of 35-odd years ago.

Hosed Down

This abandoned soap factory somewhere in France isn’t much to look at but within its bland decaying shell, a graffiti masterwork by the artist Ziru complements the factory’s detritus of hoses and rust. Kudos to Flickr user Romany WG who captured this ephemeral artwork for posterity in mid-October of 2011.

Finnished

This abandoned soap factory in Kaarina, southwestern Finland, is close enough to a major city (Turku, in this case) to attract graffiti artists yet isolated enough to let them do their deeds in relative privacy.

It’s not known why the factory closed – supplying all those saunas must have been good for business. Kudos to Flickr user WIGILOCO for snapping these images and more on a visit to the factory in late 2010.

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Scrubbed 10 Unclean Abandoned Soap Factories