We spent quite awhile on I94 today. We got away rather early (for us) just before 9am. The scenery was, once again, rather Alberta-ish. The cornfields of Minnesota gave way to huge fields of sunflowers and grain crops. Early on I had to go off the interstate to find ‘facilities’. We drove into a little village called Dawson. A man and a woman were washing their war memorial wall ... she with a scrub brush and spray detergent ... he following up with the power washer. This was next door to the town hall.Across the street was this rather odd presentation. Note the beer can in the bear’s paw.
By noon it was time to stop for gas and a bite to eat. I sometimes get a salad at McDonalds as they usually have picnic tables outside where I can sit with Eliot. However, today I discovered a place called Taco John’s. John had picnic tables and was also conveniently across the drive from the gas station so the decision was made. I had some soft tacos which came with odd potato things that I believe they called potato olés. The olés have to be the saltiest thing I have ever eaten. They were almost too salty for me and I like things salty. And, of course, they’d been deep fried.
While in line there were three guys behind me joshing with one another. At one point, one of the three said to one of the others: “But then you know I’ve got more guns than you!” And he probably did.
More Interstate 94 ...
Just before the Montana border, we headed south on Highway 85 which goes down to South Dakota. I figured we were this close we might as well see both of the the Dakotas. We’re not quite there yet. We’re in a municipal campground in a little town called Bowman. I stopped into the flower/coffee shop where I got a pound of their finest dark roast. The lady told me if we were heading south that we should be sure to check out the Black Hills in South Dakota. She also said we shouldn’t miss Mount Rushmore. I’ve always thought that Mount Rushmore was an odd sort of memorial. A bit too kitsch for my taste although the size of it appeals to my delight in big things. Perhaps I shouldn’t miss it. Besides supplying tourist advice the gal also got on the phone to see if the local campground was still open. I said: “Oh, you know the campground manager.” And she replied: “In this town, everyone knows everyone else.” I’m not sure if she thinks that’s a good or bad thing.
On my way to the campground which costs $20 with electricity and $15 without and has great showers, I stopped at a little store to buy some beer. As I was getting out of my car, this young guy drives up in a big truck with super booming bass. He held the door for me and it wasn’t until I was inside that I looked out and saw that in big letters across the top of his windshield is said: “It’s a white thing.” I am still wondering what that meant. I was standing behind him and he had a lot of tattoos but they were mostly the sentimental kind. I think one may have been of his son.
So when we left the store the radio (that had been left on blaring) was playing something by a black rapper. The only two lines I caught (unfortunately) were:
I’ll take from my black bitch
And give it to my whore.
So, if he’s a big, old racist I’m confused as to why he’d be listening to ugly black rap music. I wasn’t about to ask him.
I did buy a six pack of Budweiser. I told the clerk that I didn’t need a bag. But she informed me that she had to put the beer in a bag. It’s the law in North Dakota.
Heading South.
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