My First 3 State Day

Today, being the fourteenth (14) of July, I woke up, ate my nutritious breakfast of Albertson’s-generic-brand-pop-tarts, and took myself a shower. Post that, I wrote and posted to the interweb, and checked myself out. No more Mitchell motel for me. In my notes, I wrote that I ‘hurriedly packed my things and extricated self from motel.’ After that I had a heck of a time trying to figure out how to work the gas pump at the local Mitchell ‘Travel Station,’—it was a Shell affiliate, but that didn’t stop someone like me from being confused by it, oh no. For all intents and purposes, it looked as though it was pump first, so I tried that, and nothing happened. So I went inside to pay, and the gal behind the counter told me I needed to press the white ‘start’ button on the pump to make it... pump. I went out and did so. The button was a strip button about an inch tall and about a foot long. Toward the center of it was the phrase (in small letters) ‘push to start.’ I did so, and it did so. Ah, technology. Then, I drove. I saw a sign that indicated a ‘Laura Ingalls Wilder House’ would be somewhere nearby, and that should I want to see it, I needed to take the next exit. I did so, and upon finding no further information with regards to said house, consulted my map. The sign had said that the house was in DeSmet, so I looked at my map in the general I-90 area for DeSmet, and couldn’t find it. I looked in the index, and found its grid alignment, and looked again on the map. I found DeSmet, and it was about 60 miles due north. I didn’t fell like I had the time, nor the inclination. So, I drove. And drove some more. It got boring. Example: A hill! Corn... Then I was into Minnesota. It wasn’t any more interesting. I stopped at a rest area so that I could make myself some lunch. I did, and it was good. I had been sitting at a picnic table, picnicking, when, on my way back to my truck, an older gentleman decided to speak to me. He was apparently the rest area’s deputy custodian. He had a badge that said ‘custodian.’ It was neat. We talked for a while, about the area, about how the cops in the area were pulling people over for one mile an hour over the limit, and about how the POW/MIA flag was now below the American flag (apparently there’d been some controversy—this was a recent development, hereabouts). I thanked him for the info., he wished me well, and I was on my way once again. Then one of the most enjoyable things of this whole experience happened. I was about to merge back onto the freeway, when a mom and her two kids (or otherwise woman and two children) passed me in an early nineties Taurus station wagon. Nothing unusual, right? Wrong. As they passed me, the kid in the right rear seat flashed me the internationally-known ‘rock-on’ sign. It was wholly entertaining. It made me laugh rather raucously. It was good. Then the road got boring again. There weren’t even any hills. What could I possibly find that was interesting, I wondered. Then, as if in answer, the road revealed to me that which was interesting: road signs. There was this one that looked a bit like... well, see if you can guess which celebrity name this resembles: And there were others that looked like they’d make fantastic character names for books or movies. Some of which were reversible. The whole thing started with road signs that just told of upcoming towns, but that suddenly became entertaining when those towns were coupled together to form plausible names. The first one I noticed were the pair of upcoming towns in Minnesota called Jasper, and Pipestone. How’s that for a name? Jasper Pipestone. Or even Pipestone Jasper. Not as much, but still. Or Rushmore Worthington (Worthington Rushmore, maybe?) It was fascinating. Then I saw the wind farm. It’s where they grow wind. After that, the day was really hot. It had been prior to that, as well, but somehow it was more noticeable after that. I was doing everything I could think of to keep cool, including but not limited to: drinking plenty of fluids, sweating profusely, and spraying myself in the face with misted water. My only respite came in the form of clouds, and when I was beneath them. Another one of my more enjoyable experiences came in this form. I had discovered that staying under clouds was significantly cooler, so I made a concerted effort to do so. Then came this one cloud that was moving in just about the same direction as me, and at only a slightly slower speed. I stayed on the edge of that cloud for about a minute before it finally slowed down and I had to pass completely through it. This is what it looked like to be driving under such a cloud: Then came more road signs. Really good ones too. And: Dexter Preston. Preston Dexter. It doesn’t really matter in what order you place the names, it all adds up to quite a character, however. I stopped only one more time in Minnesota, and it was for gas in a place called Stewartville. The I-90 corridor of Minnesota really isn’t very interesting. The lands began to change a little, and suddenly I was crossing the Mississippi river into: a traffic jam. There was all kinds of roadwork at the Minnesota-Wisconsin boarder. All kinds. It was no good. I drove on into Wisconsin, stopped at a rest stop so I could get something to drink, and figure out my next move. And by ‘next move,’ I of course mean ‘where I was going to sleep that night.’ I did so, and trekked on. I soon arrived at the campground I had planned on arriving at, and asked about camping there. The woman said “oh yes, we have plenty of spots open.” I said, “How much?” She said, “Do you have a Wisconsin Park Pass?” I said, “No.” She said, “Do you have Wisconsin plates?” I said, “No.” She said, “Well, it’s a Friday night, so...” I said, “I just don’t have anything going for me, do I?” She said, “Twenty-five dollars.” I quickly said, “Do you know of anything around here for less?” Then she told me about a very nice little county campground on the river down the road a piece. She said that campground was only fifteen dollars, and should have plenty of room. I went there, and found that it was only seven dollars, for whatever reason. And they had showers. So it was a much, much, much better deal. Later on I started calling not-so-random family members, and in so doing had a conversation with a not-so-random family member. We were talking, and I said where I was headed, and he told me that that was where the University of Wisconsin was, and I thought to myself, ‘I wonder what they call that... maybe the college kids say they go to ‘U-Wis.’’ Though, after I got off the phone I remembered someone who’d gone there having called it the U Dub. But that’s silly, because everyone knows that the U Dub is the University of Washington... oh well. Then, just as I was tucking myself in, I saw this sunset, and thought it worth some camera space. I was right. And then I went to sleep. And it was good. But hot. Very hot. That was the first night I had to cover myself with an wash cloth from the ice box.