Wide Open Spaces

“Tumbleweed!” we shouted in unison as the first chunk of former plant bounced across our path. We pointed out a few more until they became synonymous with driving through North Dakota. A few hit the side of the truck. We almost hit a pheasant.

Bad work dreams plagued my sleep in Bismarck. The morning alarm hit hard and I dragged myself to Skype in Eastern Standard Time with my supervisor. It was still hot in the parking lot when we walked Molly for her morning excretions. Peter drove us to see the art deco Capitol building - the Skyscraper on the Prairie - and then for some fruit and vegetable groceries, and we were on the road again.

The day promised more roadside attractions. “There’s Sue!” Peter shouted. “Where?” I asked. I looked ahead to a 12,000 lb Holstein cow keeping watch over New Salem at the top of a hill. We drove up the hill. It was so windy, the door of the truck banged against my shins. Molly and I flailed around the cow at the top of the hill, my limbs blowing out of control, and her little body whipping around in the gusts. Our shirts (and bandana) stuck like Saran Wrap in the prairie windstorm.

We continued west through stripy rock formations between the Badlands and Theodore Roosevelt National Park. The prairie countryside was so breathtaking and promising, we decided to head south on smaller old highways to get a sense of things. The Panda Express barreled down the Enchanted Highway, punctuated with strange metal statues, and stopped in Regent, ND looking for postcards. Alas, the town was closed till high season.

When we crossed into Montana, we reconnected with the interstate. It widened, the speed limit increased by 5 miles per hour, and the country music stations played the melodies of the landscape. During one of Peter’s naps, the only available radio station blared Christian talk shows. A program called Money Sense advised on God’s way of investing savings. A woman called in sheepishly admitting she was separating from her husband after four years of struggling and needed to know how best to manage their poor finances. Instead of money advice, she was counseled to stay with her husband and pray that God heal their relationship. "I'm not saying anything, but you took a vow and need to find respect and love in your heart to put your husband's needs first." Ouch.

We aimed for an historic hotel called the Grand in Big Timber, Montana, because we had been eating carrots and fruit all day and wanted a real country steak dinner from the Beef State. Vegetarianism would cease for this cultural experience. With the sun still high in the sky, we pulled into the cheapest looking motel, nestled at the foothills of the Rockies. The owners sat outside on folding chairs drinking beer. The woman, drunk and chatty, recommended two other eateries besides the Grand because the hotel lounge was expensive with "small portions."

The Grand's portions were huge and affordable. Neither of us hungry road-trippers could finish our bison and beef burgers. A man from Philly sat next to us at the bar and we all chatted about the environment, housing, politics, but mostly our lives, his childhood summers in Montana, and our romantic road trip. When he left, Peter and I turned to each other excitedly that we had just met "Joe Biden! Joe Biden! Oh my gawd, he looked so much like Joe Biden!" We loved him.

Almost fell asleep in my clothes that night. A beautiful day and evening overall, and a perfect country experience.