Detour

It gets way to dark to stay out driving through the Nebraska night. It’s so spooky when your cruising down the road at 70mph in the pitch black night, as a thunder storms looms just overhead! Suddenly you hear thud………….thud…thud, thud, thud, thud. You stop and think it started to rain, when you realize you just drove through a thick cloud of giant bugs that splat like giant rain drops. It’s like how a horror movie starts.

After the debacle at the Wal-Mart campgrounds I thought it best to stay in a motel. I would have just parked and slept in my car, but these towns are so small I would be parking in someone’s driveway, literally! I didn’t feel like pissing any ranchers off, I imagined being awoken by a tapping on my window, only to look up and see a shotgun staring me in the eyes. So I went the safe route and stayed at a fleabag motel. Were talking a place that makes the Baits motel look like a nice place to stay, Norman included.

Even though I was in a locked room I felt no safer then if I had just slept in my car. There were all kinds of strange noises going on in the room adjacent to mine, and I’m pretty sure they weren’t the sounds of passionate love. I don’t know what they were, but it made me think the place was haunted.

Once again I got a late start. I overslept, but this time on purpose, because I actually gained an hour. When I checked out, I asked the woman where the closest place to get breakfast was. I need to quit asking this question, because the answer will always be, “a few towns west.” It’s hard for me to believe, what life like this is like, when you have to drive a hundred miles to go out to eat. Wild!

Before I drove off in search of food, I stopped to fill up my car. This hasn’t been so bad, my cars been getting great mileage, only because I’ve been pretending that half a tank is empty! You would think the further I got away from Chicago the price of gas would go down, unfortunately I have found the opposite effect. I have been paying around $3.10 a gallon, on average. I’ve seen it spike as far as $3.40 in some towns. Its also interesting that mid- grade is cheaper then the regular, just because its mixed with ethanol. Now I was confused why this would be, until I figured that most people out in these parts still drive old fords and Chevy’s. So why would that mater? Well they still use carburetors, and I suppose it might not work as well. That’s my theory at least.

I decided to take a bit of a detour off US 20, and go north up US 385 into the Black Hills, of South Dakota. The landscape in Nebraska had once again become stagnant and plain. As I approached South Dakota border you could see the landscape change drastically as mighty hills loomed on the horizon. I headed to South Dakota with only one site in mind, Crazy Horse. This side trip would take me a bit out of my way, but I would be able to loop back around and meat back up with US 20 and hopefully not have missed anything. Knowing my luck, I passed up the town that held the secret to my life.

I was now in American Indian country, I could tell by all the casinos attached to the gas stations, the land is littered with them. I stopped in at one just to see what it was like, and it wasn’t very nice. I struck up a conversation with one of the attendants that looked to be a genuine American Indian. I just asked some real bullshit questions. When I asked him his name, he said “Light-Feather!” I looked at him like I wasn’t amazed by his true Indian name, but couldn’t resist asking how he got that name. He looked at me real serious like and said “Ha dude I’m just fucking with you, my names Danny, you white people fall for that ever time.” I kind a chuckled, I really didn’t know how to react, it was a very uncomfortable situation and he knew it too. People probably give him that whole “How Kemosobi” so he just messes with them back. I took this an opportunity to step out.

Back on the road it was an awesome drive through the Black Hills, the twist and turns through the protected park land give you a pristine look at the wild life and scenery. I got lucky and was able to catch a pic of a lumbering bison heading over a hill. I thought Bison traveled in herds? As I leaned out my window staring at the beast, I started to hear what sounded like birds cackling at me. I looked around confused because I couldn’t see anything, until I looked at the ground. Right next to where I parked a few feet from my door was a prairie dog town. They were sticking there heads out of the ground and laughing at me, or so it seemed. They were so cute, I wanted to go and grab one out of its hole and make it mine.

My distraction was short lived as I headed back down the road towards Crazy Horse. Screw Mt. Rushmore it’s not that impressive, once you’ve bared witness to Crazy Horse. My father took my little brother and I to see this monument in the making ten years ago. It wasn’t even close to being finished back then. So I was hoping they may have made some substantial progress since. Its been a long time since I’d been there, and barely recognized the place. It looked nice, and for some odd reason I remember it looking crappy. I think its because they recently paved the parking lot. I walked through the visitors’ center admiring all the Indian artifacts, and looking at the Indian made crafts for sale. When I walked out onto the viewing area, and could get a good look at the progress. Well you can defiantly see his head, and the hole where his arm out stretches; other then that, you need to use a bit of your imagination to fill in the rest. Soon, they will start carving on the horses head, and I suppose when I return in another ten years that will be complete. Its hard to judge progress on project of this scale. I took a few pictures and began to walk around a look at some other stuff, Korczak, the guy who started this made.

In the very back of the facility, they have some more things dedicated to American Indians, and a special wing with his sculptures in it. This is where the oddest thing happened to me. I was standing with a group of people when all of the sudden they dispersed and the area became very quiet. Then this orange and white striped cat appeared at my feet and began meowing and rubbing on my leg. I looked around to see if it belonged to anyone and try to figure out where the hell this thing came from. It kept meowing at me incessantly, and walked a bit in front of me, as if to make me follow it. I took a few steps forward, it krept forward and meowed at me. So I followed it as it took me around the outside and down a sidewalk into a back gallery. The gallery was just a plain long hall with a bunch of bust and sculptures Korczak had made. The cat ran right to the end of the room through a banister that acted as a gate separating the important sculptures from the rest of the hall. It then went up to a very special bust the guy had made, called “Paderwski”  It was odd because the cat stopped there and meowed at me some more, but it was in an area that I couldn’t get to. I stepped back for a moment because it almost felt like something supernatural was a foot. All I could think that this cat was possessed by this guy, and it was showing me this to tell me that I should be a sculptor? Yeah I know far fetched but man it was weird, because the whole time this was happening no-one else was around, in this very busy attraction. It was like I was the only one meant to see this cat. And how often to wild cats appear in the wilderness and go up to strangers? I don’t know? As mysteriously as the cat appeared, it disappeared.

That was enough Crazy happenings at Crazy horse for me, so I jumped back on the road and took US 385 to 18 west. This would take me through some more back areas of the Black Hills, showing parts that had been burned by a recent fire. It then snaked around and brought me into Wyoming. No sooner did I enter Wyoming. I saw my first tumbleweed blow across the highway. I continued on 18 and took it over to 85 south, which dumped me back in not to far from where I left 20. It was a very long detour, but well worth it.  

Long stretches of nothing would be in my future. It wasn’t until I reached Douglas Wyoming that I got and opportunity to see something truly amazing. It turns out Douglas is the Home of the Jackalope, the mysterious half jackrabbit half antelope! The town was adorned with giant statues in honor of this magical creature. I couldn’t resist taking pictures of them. You would think a town that prides itself in this creature would have a place to buy one from, unfortunately for me the only shop I came across that sold one, was closed. Pity too, because I know it would have made a perfect gift for someone back home.