Minnesota needs more whimsy. Bring back the Happy Chefs and the Big Boys.

Ask people to compile a list of the things wrong with modern cities, and the answer “a lack of whimsical commercial statuary” may come in around No. 64. But the next time you get your car washed — and it’s the season where you think about it daily — consider whether you’d be more likely to visit a car wash that had an octopus revolving on a pole.

There used to be one on University Avenue near the St. Paul border. A cheerful green mascot for Octopus Car Wash, his tentacles holding a bucket, a sponge and a vacuum cleaner nozzle. And the sign said: “Many Hands to Serve You.”

The Octopus chain had other outlets around the city, but all are gone. The octopuses were retired, and a few were sold to collectors. The car wash has been gone since 2007, and the neighbors are no doubt happy the traffic has lessened, and the sound of the roaring blowers stilled.

But wouldn’t you like to see an octopus, which welcomes you, on a pole now and then?

The decline in commercial statuary is something no one notices anymore, because it’s been almost total, and it’s been absent for a while. But in the post-World War II era, it wasn’t unusual to find some fiberglass fellow standing outside a business, eyes wide, smiling with anticipation of meeting your needs.

Big Boy: The famous hamburger chain Big Boy Restaurant Group had several outlets, mostly in the suburbs, but there was a restaurant at 7th Street and Hennepin Avenue in downtown Minneapolis in the 1970s. Some suburban restaurants might have the Boy on a plinth — the photographic records are not abundant — but we know there was one on the Hennepin location, standing above the gritty street on a shelf, holding aloft his famous double-decker sandwich. Donning a white-and-red checkerboard outfit, big black slicked pompadour, a lascivious expression of delight at the prospect of a burger, he was an icon for the hungry. When you saw the Boy, you knew it was a place to eat.

Happy Chef: The Mankato restaurant, founded in 1963, would expand to 65 stores at its height, and each had the distinctive statue of the eponymous cook. The 36-foot-tall chef, raising a spoon aloft like the torch of the Statue of Liberty and wearing a goofy look, is unlike many commercial statues. He spoke! Kids could push a button and a voice would issue some merry remark or riddle.

There’s only one chef left now, and that’s the original in Mankato.

Burger Family: In 1960, the fast-food chain A&W Restaurants decided to promote its line of burgers with a fiberglass family: Papa, Mama and Baby, each hoisting aloft their particular version of the hamburger with one hand and a frosty mug of root beer in the other. The Teen Burger was added in 1963. The entire family was wiped from corporate memory when A&W decided to use a bear as a mascot, and the families went to the scrapyard — except when they didn’t. Roadside America, a website that collects the highlights of postwar commercial archaeology, says a few remain in Minnesota.

At a gas station in Blue Earth, Minn., near the junction of Highway 169 and Interstate 90, you’ll find a Teen statue converted to Sprout, the Green Giant’s little helper. He stands near the Green Giant’s statue, relaxing in the shade.

An entire Burger Family can be found at A&W Restaurant in Mountain Lake, in southwest Minnesota.

There was a Papa Burger standing alone, perhaps divorced, at the Spring Lake, Minn., A&W, but it’s closed, and the whereabouts of Papa are unknown.

There were other statues around town, as well. The Thunderbird, an American Indian-themed kitschy Bloomington motel that was one of the premier destinations for Met Stadium attendees in the 1960s, had a Native chief, arm raised in salute.

It was likely the work of International Fiberglass, the nation’s prime source of Indian synthetic-material statuary, and it looks like its brethren stood before gas stations and motels around the country. The statue was carted off when the Thunderbird went down in 2016.

You might ask “what about the Peanuts statues that started popping up in St. Paul in the early 2000s?” But they’re not in the same category. Those are closer to public statues for notable figures in local history. They don’t promote a service. You might say “they make you smile, and that’s a service.” True.

The octopus made you smile, too.