The beginning of the novel The Savior or Turk:

It’s past sundown as you truck north on a four-lane highway, about twenty miles short of the Iowa line, when you spot a green sign that declares the town of Turk is ten miles up the road. Six or seven miles farther, something glowing smack dab in the middle of the navy horizon catches your eye. You figure it’s one of those gigantic truck stops that sucks up a billion kilowatts of juice and lights up like the Vegas strip at midnight. You start to get the itch for a quick fill-up and one of those watery cappuccinos they serve next to the regular coffee.

A minute or two later, the thing on the horizon starts to come into focus. It’s a truck stop all right, and nearby is the tallest flag pole you’ve ever seen. Stalags never had so many spotlights. Despite all that wattage, you can’t tell what’s on top of the flagpole, but you’re pretty certain it’s no flag.
Just before the exit ramp, you’re weaving in and out of your lane because you’re still trying to make out what that thing is so far off the ground. Just as you hit the exit, you realize it’s a wooden cutout of a bearded guy in a white robe. Just in case you miss the point it’s Jesus, he’s sporting a neon halo. But this JC has only one arm, which is stretching out from his side like he’s saying “Exit here, all ye who seeketh gas, fast food and cheap fireworks that are illegal in Iowa.”

That’s the exit to Turk, and that flagpole is known as Jesus on a Stick. The story goes that the one-armed Messiah was inspired by the Turk Everlasting Church of God, which put up the flagpole right after Turk became home to Exit 110 Married Couples Movies & More, which sat on the other side of the highway. That store, with its loads of sex tapes and customers, made Turk look bad. Or so God informed the church. The congregation wrangled the deed to a small plot along the Interstate and up Jesus went. He started out with two double-sided, one-inch thick plywood arms, but lost one when the first strong wind came through. Everybody who motors that stretch of Interstate knows about Jesus on a Stick, and some might even say a Hail Mary or two when it comes into view. If you ask me, everybody who wanted that bookstore gone should be worshipping my cousin Bhanu, whose handiness with a Bic lighter and a bit of accelerant is still renowned in those parts.

The Savior of Turk on Amazon.