Driving through Asheville, North Carolina late at night, I came across a lit-up sign with no words. A roadside beacon that had lost its voice. Its former promises of convenience and fast, cheap food stripped-away. In the darkness of night, stood a perfect specimen, an American architectural icon: the Drive-Thru. Where before, branded signage helped to conceal its quotidian purpose: to serve the automobile and it’s driver a meal with minimal wait-time, now it stood unclad, exposed, demonstrating its purpose with clarity. I took the time to photograph this remnant structure. A few weeks later it was demolished.
Designed to accommodate rows of idling cars, the Drive-Thru has become, with the habits of social distancing, even more popular, a preferred way to pick up a meal or a coffee-flavored drink. The Drive-Thru is also a contested and increasingly maligned site, responsible for escalating carbon emissions. Construction bans of new Drive-Thru locations in several US cities are attempts to curtail greenhouse gasses. Its iconography as a built structure and presence remains predominant in the urban landscape.