black chevrolet

So post something about my trip.

Yeah.

Well, I have some pictures. I don't know. It's hard to take a picture of desert broiling up into the sun, or of hard speedboat wakes of wind turbulence grasping me my main force and shoving me into the fast lane. Hard to take a picture of a South Dakota accent or even South Dakota much of anything. Or Wyoming, for god's sake. Well, SD has the Badlands, and WY has Yellowstone, so there are redeeming moments.

The main thing was, my once a year ritual of being on the road for an extended period of time and being disattached to everything and everyone was routinely performed and I felt better afterwards as I always do. It's a natural consequence of boring into one's job and one's life and eating it and breathing it for a year. Breaking loose really helps.

Why is the main patron of a smoke shop in St. George Nevada the middle aged woman? And why was the proprietor of said shop maintaining a humidor FULL of empty premium cigar boxes?

Why do RV's set up such an evil vacuum on the freeway?

Why do national parks cost so much? Why does the KOA campground in Cody, WY charge $29.95 for a patch of rough dirt?

Why do small towns still exist with gravel main streets exactly wide enough for a team of oxen to hang a U-turn? And run gas stations out of an abandoned co-op?

Why does Salt Lake City at nine p.m. give me the creeps?

Why isn't there any shade to sit and eat a clif bar and drink SoBe in Southern Wyoming?

Why does Suzuki make such hard friggin' motorcycle seats?

Why don't Wyoming cops pull me over for doing 15 over the speed limit? And why are Wyoming drivers even worse than Minnesota drivers?

Why do I feel so lightheaded at 9,100 feet? The motorcycle doesn't seem to run much different.

Where is the nerve in my back that I'm convinced will never be the same? I can't reach it...and it hurts...