It was the slog we have all done. If not here, then elsewhere.
You hit the pedal to the metal at Fargo and hope you don’t
have to stop until you have passed Beach. (Or, vice versa, of course.)
Richard and I lunched in West Fargo, where I bought this
mug. We only stopped one other time in North Dakota. I don’t remember the name of town,
but we bought gas and I rammed the U-Haul into a post. There was no damage, so
we moved on quickly.
We spent the night in Wibaux, MT, barely across the border.
I think I need to spend a more thoughtful and explorative
trip through North Dakota. It just seems like the right and salutary thing to
do.
That’s while wreaking havoc in every small town I pass through
on my Harley. Yeah, us tattooed studs do things like that.
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