Current mood:

hopeful

Westward Bound, Day 2
Last night I stayed at the creepiest Motel 6 that ever existed. It was refurbished out of some kind of dormitory, I think; big cement brick walls painted white, wide hallways, very Spartan. The signs everywhere demanding that I not leave valuables in my car, and that the hotel was not responsible for stolen belongings, convinced me to take my bikes from the rack and hoof them up the stairs. So I spent an uneventful night watching Deadwood (a show that I relished when a co-worker brought in taped episodes, and have missed) and eating local-delivery pizza. I intended to write some more, but my brain was feeling mushy and unmotivated after the drive. The one bit that I saw included the death of a major character, meaning that season two and some undisclosed amount of season 3 are somewhat tarnished for me. Whine, whine, eh?

The mighty storm I took photos of last night did indeed hit, with lightning flashes galore. I emerged this morning to load my bikes back up and get some very bad complimentary coffee from the lobby, only to find . . . my doors unlocked.

I had been so goddamned preoccupied with making sure my two $50 falling-apart bikes were safe and sound that I had forgotten to lock my doors. Brilliant! As luck would have it, nothing was taken . . . whether my lack-of-bikes meant the car didn’t stand out, or the next-to-the-door-and-light ploy worked, or the broken off lock knob on the passenger side made it look locked, or my crappy stuff was unappealing, I escaped unthefted. The only really valuable stuff, Dave’s satellite radio and my laptop, were in the room anyway.

The morning was uneventful, other than my driving the car to fumes before finding a gas pump attached to a small-town bar in the middle of nowhere. Dumb; I had passed a major center just as the needle hit red, but the ol’ “I can push a little farther” pointless ambition arose, and on I went. 31.something miles per gallon on the first stretch; not bad, for being fully laden and with wind-resistant crap on top.

I’m now in Bismark, ND. I don’t particularly like it. I came in search of some wireless (which I found, although I had to pay $ for it) and a digital camera (the phone camera takes really, really crappy pictures, as my last entry demonstrates). Found the former at a Starbucks/Barnes & Noble, where I am now, and the latter in a Target. Now the question is whether I chill out and read some graphic novels, or push on. I figure I’ll make Theodore Roosevelt Natl Park by early evening, and camp there.

A 20-something Bismarkian woman with the most vividly colored tattoo I’ve ever seen (it’s an armband of flowers . . . yellow, red, green, blue, etc.) just came in. I don’t like tattoos in general, but every now and then, one works.

Other than her, I’ve decided that beyond not particularly liking Bismark, I actively, actually, strongly, instinctively DISlike it. A lot.

I'll upload today's pictures at the next Wi-Fi stop. Tally Ho!