Pampies, Road Trips, And other whimsies...

(Note: I made this in "serial" format, for ease of reading...)

Well we’re back-ah. It was an amazing trip from day 1, and I want to start by thanking ma and pa for the use of their pervertible. (I was almost sad when I had to trade it back) RSvP for the use of the camping gear, and finally- the great state of SoDak for being…um, South Dakotlian. I’m gonna regurg the trip day bidet, and if I leave anyting out Moped’ll prolly correct me via comments or on her own FriendlyBlogSpace dealio…(And I’ll have pics up eventually. Eventually)

Friday...day one

After a stop at our banks and some a.m. java we were off. The weather stayed ridiculously nice, and I’ve have discovered a new vehicular love in the form of cruise control. Air temps reached 104 degree’s as we periodically slathered on the SPF 30. Even came close to a little sunstroke.
And after a while? You start to lose track of the number of Wall Drug and "Visit Rushmore" signs. Pushy signs.

"Can you imagine actually living here?"

We pit stopped in Wall Drug before making our final lap to the camp. Looking in the rearview mirror, I was amazed to see that my hair had actually started dreading itself due to the wind whipping. (I gave it a half assed brushing and nearly pulled out half the hair on my head.) 1st stop, we sallied up to the Badlands Bar for a celebratory refreshment. There were several purty young gals working behind the bar, all with very distinctive accents. I was convinced that the bar was a front for a Russian Mail Order Prostitution ring, but before I could continue my frass diatribe Mo-ped asks: "Where are you from?"/"Russia" (She was a college student, you see)/"What brings you all the way out here to South Dakota?"/"It’s Central"

Can’t argue with that.

After some picture taking, bumper sticker getting, and gift shoppe-ing, we bid our adieu to the Drug of Wall. "Can you imagine actually living here? I’d pray for death…daily." We finally arrived at the KOA, checked in, and set up camp…just missing the cowboy poet. It was a really nice campground (In spite of one side being natural beauty, and the other being a privacy fence where you could see suburban houses) A brief hot tub dip (Mo Fo was the Clorine-iest) and it was hay-hitting time.

9 hours in the car’ll do that to ya.