I'm still in South Dakota tonight, driving through a hazy August darkness punctuated every few miles by the light of small fires burning in the crop fields and the glowing yellow dots of doublewides and farmhouses. Terrifying militia men wait for me around every bend of the road, hunkered down in their pick up trucks. They are going to spot me and chase me, run me off the road and take me back to their stock-piled cabins to wait for the end of days.
Lucky for me, the endless stretch of 1-90 through South Dakota has no bends, so there's nothing to worry about.
If you've recently consulted a map and are wondering why I'm still in the same state as I was yesterday, it's because we took a long-ish detour to Mount Rushmore. Was it worth it? I got this photo:
...and for the first time, I truly understand the sentiment of this statement:
"To live in a country where you can take an ugly old mountain and put faces on it, faces of great Americans who did so much to make our country super great, well, that makes me.....proud to be an American." *
If you can guess what gem of modern cinema this comes from, then we're bound to be the closest of friends one day soon. Until that day I remain very much on my own, with the notable exception of the dog, travelling across the United States, searching for meaning, juice, and water slides.
(This post is dedicated to Colleen Murphy.)
*and in response to the emails I've already gotten regarding the sordid and controversial history of Mount Rushmore, this is an extremely sarcastic quote from an extremely sardonic movie.