The last time we talked, I was in Illinois. Several states have gone by ...
|Sometimes, when you live in a hotel, you don't have a bowl...|
It's okay to make salad in a skillet!
|Mrs T is what we call ... Special. Unique.|
|Freddie the Cat, on the other paw, was singularly unimpressed by his lady's news.|
|The car was very cozy|
|Seafoam grew up on an island ... she's never been on a road trip! I knew|
she had to have the real experience!
Mitchell, South Dakota for the night. Although we weren't necessarily tired yet, I didn't want to blow through Bismark in the night for two reasons: for one, I wanted her to see the Corn Palace in the morning light. For two, there isn't much of anything after Mitchell for another two hundred miles! I've made this trip with family many times before, and my memories of the Dakotas primarily consist of rolling grassland, Presidential faces in stone, and more rolling grassland. These memories have been thoroughly confirmed.
|Seafoam sends her husband a picture|
|We found a small sod Inn for the night.|
|The Foam was more or less awake as we got ready to leave in the morning|
We left in the morning after a solid night's rest, ready to hit some tourist sites. I had a list of places I wanted to nail down in South Dakota, starting with the Corn Palace. (I know, you're probably surprised there are any sites in SD at all, but I promise you there are some good ones - including one of my very favorite National Parks!)
We drove a few blocks across town to the Corn Palace and parked across the street, rolling down the window to take a few pictures in the fresh, crisp sunlight. As we snapped shots and sipped coffee from the continental breakfast at the hotel, the sound of high-pitched howling broke into our peaceful moment.
No, it was not the Arikara war cry we heard screeching through the air. It was a boy of about seven years old, his fair hair long and curling to his shoulders, wearing a loose blue t-shirt and casual long shorts. His dad was trying to soothe him but the boy would not be soothed, shaking with sobs and roaring to the sky.
"She was just a mean old lady!" he gasped, his skinny chest heaving with puerile indignation. He was standing beside our car as his mom and sister stood in the street (don't worry, there aren't many cars in South Dakota) waiting for the drama to unfold. "She - she walked past us outside the store, and she said," he had to inhale through his tears before he could articulate the bitter words of injustice, "she said hi girls," his voice rose to a scream, "and I'm not a girl!"
Seafoam and I stuffed our fists in our faces to muffle our laughter as the tragic quartet passed in front of us, the boy utterly grieved by his humiliating experience, still wailing like a soprano banshee.
|We had the unique opportunity to ride through South Dakota at the same|
time as the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally ... it was entertaining but also
a little bit of a headache! There were about eighteen million cyclists on the
road and at every scenic stop, which is nerve-wracking when you can't see
out of your side and rear windows!
But what happened in Wyoming that almost kept us from reaching our destination in time? I can hardly bring myself to tell you ...
California or bust!