Forgotten Firebaugh Fosters Freeze Fotoessay

Ice cream memories in California’s Central Valley.

Over the Memorial Day weekend, my family took a road trip from Pasadena up to Hercules for cousin Jorge’s wedding party. Ale, Lucy, Jhenny, and me on a long drive up the 5. Around four hours in, we stopped for lunch and gas in Firebaugh. I saw it pulling off the freeway, the script of that sign unmistakable. An abandoned Fosters Freeze. Boarded up. Tagged up. Empty parking lot. Weeds. Dirt. Debris.

As I’ve written elsewhere, abandoned buildings tell stories. I’ve taken to documenting abandonment on my travels.

We ate at Subway and used the facilities. Then got moving again. Among the five gas stations there, I drove our rented Volvo to the Shell next to the forgotten ice cream spot. We were running behind schedule with 153 miles to go. I had to be quick.

My wife offered a solution. “I’ll pump the gas, you photo the building,” Ale said. Sister and suegra agreed with the efficacy. “YES,” I said. And then I devised a game plan: snap quick shots of all four sides, keep moving.

Center the building. Snap.

Get a corner view. Snap.

Keep walking. Snap.

Get another corner angle. Snap.

Don’t overthink the shot. Snap.

But center it. And keep trucha. Snap.

Having looped the building, I had a few minutes for some distant and close up shots.

I also snapped shots of residual features like the broken, tagged up monument signs, and the gorilla piece on the trash enclosure.

It was hot, dusty, quiet . . . .

It took me less than a minute to post a vertical on Instagram Story, a closer shot spotlighting the Fosters Freeze sign remnant.

By now, Ale had moved the rental from the pump to the edge of the property line separating the gas station from the ruin. That was my high sign. I trotted back to the car, buckled up, and sped north.

I waited until a day after the wedding to post from my STR in San Pablo a curated carousel of 14 horizontal shots on my Instagram timeline of this abandoned Fosters Freeze, with the “Firebaugh, CA” location tag added, and a simple caption reading #nofilter #placaso, plus that little paint tray emoji. The post drew engagement from both frequent and quiet posters.

So then I went to the internet to see what others were saying about it. Googling “firebaugh fosters” retrieved a grip of what today we’re calling “content.” Travel websites. Instagram posts. Facebook posts. Flickr photos. Reddit threads. TikToks. YouTube videos. This place is popular with the urbex set as well as travelers, locals, and former residents. Thankfully, others on YouTube shared videos of this Fosters Freeze in better times.

These days the comments section can be fucking vomitous, but sift through the bots and bullshit and you’ll find real community stories.

A commenter on Instagram wrote:

OMG!!! I worked at that restaurant back in the day!! I can’t believe this! I hadn’t been there in years, since the 80’s ..I was in my late teens, early 20’s when I worked there. That’s crazy!

Over on Reddit, one person shared:

I always used to stop here for a banana milkshake when driving between SF and LA. :(

But a Facebook comment explained the business’s fate:

It struggled for years, but it was in need of updating and equipment was getting old. Add in its hard to get employees in such an isolated area. Sadly, they threw in the towel.

I thought about families like mine who found this place on road trips. The workers dealing with that crying child demanding more chocolate on the Hot Fudge Sunday as his exhausted parents acquiesced. Couples sharing an ice cream cone in a booth. Busy weekends. Lines in the drive-thru. Cold treats on hot days. This place mattered.

I returned to Instagram to find new comments on my post. One rhetorical question resonated. My friends at Esotouric wrote:

“We’re not getting a cone, are we?”

Only memories of a cone.

Full Fosters Freeze Flickr Fotoset: https://www.flickr.com/photos/skuchamenz/albums/72177720334239438