Just how many Stonehenges are there in North America? Or rather, Stonehenge-like structures, standing out in the open. For a question like that, consult the expertise of Roadside America. The answer turns out to be that there’s no definitive count – they keep “springing up,” as the web site says (and the article is worth reading in its entirety). A design borrowed from ancient Britain morphs into something distinctly American, again and again.

None is better known than Carhenge in western Nebraska, RA asserts, and I can go along with that. Its fame is international.

Though not a Stonehenge, I visited the Cadillac Ranch once upon a time, so it stands to reason that someday I’d have a strong hankering to see Carhenge. I arrived early in the afternoon of September 7, under partly cloudy and very warm skies.

All the cars were painted gray at one time, but that has clearly given way to some being used as metal canvases.

The colorful cars are curated works, from the looks of them, to use that word in a literal and correct way.

RA: “[Carhenge] was built [in 1987] in a farm field north of Alliance, Nebraska, under the supervision of farmer (and engineer) Jim Reinders [d. 2021], who meant it as a memorial to his dad.

“What makes Carhenge special is that it’s made of cars, 38 of them, rescued from nearby farms and dumps. Reinders noticed that the monolithic dimensions of cars from the 1950s and ’60s nearly equaled the stones at Stonehenge, and he built his monument with a 96-foot diameter to match the proportions of the original.”

One outlying car seems to be reserved for spray painting for anyone who wants to, in the style of all the cars at the Cadillac Ranch.

The undercarriage is particularly vivid.

The graffiti car is apart from the Stonehenge-like array, along with other sculptures that have been added to the grounds in more recent years.

Not just an upright old car, but apparently a time capsule, closed in 2003, with a slated opening in 2053.

Word is that Carhenge wasn’t especially popular locally in its early years, including grunts of “eyesore” and threats to have it condemned and the like. But after a few decades, the townspeople came around, and the town of Alliance acquired the site in 2013, so now it counts as a public park. You go through an open gate, no admission is charged, and you’re free to wander around. Next to the parking lot, a gift shop stands, but visiting is optional. I supported the preservation of Carhenge in the form of a magnet- and postcard-centered purchase at the shop.