
So about a week ago we packed up and headed to the Black
Hills of South Dakota. The purpose was two-fold. First and foremost, we were
heading to a wedding for my good buddy Dave. I'm all about a free supper, even
if I have to drive 400 miles and stay in hotels for three nights to get it. Second,
we wanted to take our very first family vacation for the same reason everybody
takes family vacations: we are apparently insane. There is no other rational explanation
and since we've returned I have been considering both therapy and prescription
drugs.
We drove out of our yard at the crack of dawn Thursday
morning with my old friend Sarah leading the way. Sarah is the name I gave our GPS
a few years back because it has a woman's voice that tells me repeatedly,
"Perform a legal U-turn at the next available opportunity." Nicole
says the same thing, but not in as gentle of phrasing. After a couple days on
the road it is nice to hear a friendly woman's voice, and the only way a
married man can have that is if he buys a GPS.

Digression complete: Sarah led us past Hensler,
through Center and Hanover, south
to New Salem, and then west to Dickinson.
This is farther from home than I have been in three solid years. The kids were
both still happy, thinking we must almost be there. Nicole was still happy,
mostly because the kids were still happy. I was worried wondering about how
many years it took for those old warrants in South Dakota
to expire.
From Dickinson we headed
straight south into a land where, as one person who took the same route told me
at the wedding, there are still wagon trains lost. It is some desolate country.
Once we got five miles out of Dickinson, we
didn't see any cars for miles. For a while we didn't even see cows.

But finally, after hearing "Are we there yet?"
nearly 6,000 times (To tell the truth, I was the one who kept asking. The kids
were content with the trip. On the way down. Not so much on the way back. More
on that later) we arrived in Spearfish. Compared to the two hundred miles north
of Spearfish, the city looked like New York
or Paris. Then again, Hensler would look
like New York or Paris
compared to the desert north of Spearfish.
Anyway, that's all the room I've got for this week, so we
will continue this trek in next week's paper. As my Arnold Schwarzenegger GPS
would say, "I'll be back."
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