There was no sleep to be had last evening. I was wide awake when the phone rang at 7:00 with the wake-up call I had scheduled. I packed my things and left. The laptop was on, but when I tried to move the mouse it froze. Pinwheel of death. I turned it off, it hasn’t come back on since.
I checked out and threw my bags in the car. I drove a few blocks to Firestone and walked inside. I asked for Ken, who I had been placed in touch with last night. I must have called 12-15 different service centers and transmission experts last evening, and Ken was one of the only ones who was going to be open today. I greeted him and we spoke about the car. We walked outside and he looked under the hood. Nothing jumped out at him. I handed him the key, and he said he would take it for a drive and see what would happen.
I made myself two cups of coffee and stood drinking them and talking to the only other guy there. He was having his van worked on. He looked Native American, old and stout. We talked about how annoying South Dakota is when Sturgis is happening. He told me that as a local, he knows that each year in August he’s going to Minnesota for a week while the bikers take over. He apologized that I picked such a bad time to visit. His daughter came to pick him up, and I was left alone waiting for Ken to return. He pulled in and hopped out of the car. He told me he’d driven it out onto the freeway, around town and didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Typical. He said there were no missing belts and nothing appeared faulty with the transmission. He said to drive it around town for a while and if something felt wrong, come back. I said I would, but instead I just got on the freeway.
I started my drive at roughly 8:30am. I got to Omaha at 9:00pm. It was the longest and most boring drive of my life. I went past Mount Rushmore, but didn’t feel like paying $8 to get a close up view of what was an entirely uninteresting monument. It looks a lot different in person. Less interesting and more expensive.
I stopped in a town and bought some gifts for folks. There was a store that sold trucker hats for 1.99 so I picked up four. If anyone wants one, shoot me an e-mail and I’ll hook you up.
As I drove US-385 East (which actually runs North South) I made my way to the Wind Caves region of the Black Hills area. I saw signs on the side of the road cautioning drivers that there were large wildlife crossing ahead. Then I saw another sign that said, “Buffalo are Dangerous! DO NOT APPROACH.”
Buffalo? Aren’t they all dead.
I rounded a corner and WHAM! A herd of maybe 200 buffalo, just chilling. I know I say this almost every day, but it was one of the most incredible sights I’ve ever seen. Naturally, I got out of my car and tried to approach the buffalo. I got some good photos, but you’ll never see them because my computer smells like Hefeweizen and when I turn it on I get a smiley face followed by a question mark. I don’t know what it means, but it’s probably not a good thing. I’ve never seen it before, that’s for sure.
Nebraska is like, dirt clods and corn fields. Plus it rained all the way here.
Omaha is a really neat little city. I went to various bars and “areas.” There was a dance club called Roxbury that was packed and not entirely my scene. I went to two other bars, one of them had a bunch of girls with boy haircuts, perky breasts, long flowing skirts and Saddle Creek t-shirts. I drank some homebrews that were “meh” and headed back to my hotel where I proceeded to find a free computer in the business center. The business center is next to the front desk. I’m going to go flirt with the girl who is working the night shift.
To sum it all up, first I drove 12 hours and 650 miles (by the way, that makes 8,400 to this point). Then I drove through Omaha. Then I had some drinks. Then I came back to the motel. Then I wrote this closing statement.
