Before leaving Montana we stopped at the battlefield of the Battle of Little Big Horn. (Medium Horn?)
It was a somber place. It is interesting because no one knows for sure why Custer did what he did. I don't know very much about any of it but I went away feeling unimpressed with General Custer and sad about the lost lives and unfortunate circumstances all around.
Wyoming was going along swimmingly. Braeden drove some (straight roads) and then I drove. Then I got a ticket near Gillette.
I think I'm against Gillette now. Are they associated with the people that make razor blades? Because if they are, I may stop shaving my legs in protest.
I felt terrible.
Adam hugged me and told me sympathetically that he was sorry. Then he smiled. Then he looked downright gleeful and said, "I'm glad you are the one that gets all the tickets."
First, that's not strictly true.
Second, that's not very supportive.
So I was glad to get out of Wyoming. Who needs Wyoming? Not me. And Trooper Briggs, you are not my favorite trooper.
In South Dakota, we visited Mt. Rushmore.
Impressive is an understatement. I really loved it. It was a beautiful setting and a stunning sculpture. (And Trooper Briggs was a state away.)
I loved all the flags and the nobility of the faces. It made me feel like I was part of something grand.
Adam takes most the pictures. You can tell because 1) they aren't blurry and 2) he's not in them (which is unfortunate).
Here he is though: a self portrait, reflected in our golden chariot.
|See me? I am in the mirror.|
We, of course, did not forget about Horace.
|He was also impressed. And that's high praise coming from him...from one sculpture to another.|
(The best way to get attention at a National Monument? Carry a metal goat and pose him for pictures.)