And then we left Montana.....

Spent several days at the Grandview RV Park in Hardin, MT: "We're not fancy, never claimed to be. But we're family." OK then. It was as she proclaimed, and the stay was quite productive for Ton-Ton and I. We did laundry and....wait...here comes the fanfare.....FIXED THE WATER! Tony, the magnificent pipefitter that he is, has spent most of the week in various Home Depot's across the state, and smaller hardware stores (remember those?), gathering his stash of parts together to duplicate the broken manifold that is no longer made. His toughest challenge, I think, was working at our picnic table when it was about 90. God it was so hot! As I was marching to the laundry room (oh proprietress, does "family" charge $2.25 for washing clothes? I think not!) in this heatwave, I threw the clothes in two washers, then headed for the showers next door and took a cold one. Put my dress back on, sans delicate underthings - too hot - and felt refreshed for a minute or two.

Upon my return, look what happened!

Prior to heading out the next day, we had breakfast at a cute little Hardin diner, Sal's. As I sat and drank my coffee, TC walked to the local hardware store. I asked the second waitress I spotted with a looooong braid, "I feel like I need a braid to eat here." She laughed and we continued the conversation, she and I, relaxed women, happy with our worlds. She said she hadn't cut her hair since Freshman year in High School. Wow. She said it was a problem when she was ropin', because her right braid kept getting caught in the....some technical horse woman ropin' stuff. I mentioned Alex and 4H, and she said all four of her kids were in 4H and FFA, raising cattle and horses. And she still has most of them at her place. Her husband's name is Tole (Toll?). She has been out for days riding, looking for "the bull." She didn't find him, but found a sore-footed calf, and another with porcupine quills...but no bull. She says that after the days of riding recently, her horse just looks at her as if to say, "I will not let you catch me today." Her face was brown and wrinkled like a dried mud puddle. Beautiful woman. I asked her if she ever has a vacation, or is tied to her ranch. She said, "Working here is my vacation."

We spent an extra night at the Grandview with our fabulous "family" in order to see Little Big Horn. As you'll recall from your history lessons, children, this was a battle that ended up: Natives 1 Whiteys 0. Lt. Custer had his last stand on this battleground of rolling, grassy hills and ravines. The native scouts warned Custer, et al, that attacking Sitting Bull's people was not a good idea, as their trail was a MILE WIDE with horses and people. No prob, says Custer, we will form a triangle attack and send them back the reservation we gave them. Unfortunately, due to there being no cell phones or walkie talkies, communication took a long time, like one soldier being dispatched between the triangles.

It didn't go well. Now turn to page 21 class - no reading ahead! The soldiers, 40% of whom were foreigners, tried to hunker down in the ravines, but were all overcome by natives on horseback, with repeating rifles. The grave markers, put up where the men fell, scatter miles around the hillock of the "last stand". They are lonely little markers, few in groups...they died alone, these mother's sons.

What followed is equally as sad. US Gov'mint found gold in the Black Hills, and redid the reservation boundaries so that they were excluded. What a way to do business with the original inhabitants of America. Sitting Bull - visionary, healer, leader - saw his peep's downfall upon many discussions with the white guys who wanted land, gold, and more land and gold. There are very few natives buried here, as their bodies were taken back to their villages to be buried.

Time to move on...We thanked Jeebus for flying through the corner of Wyoming and putting that long damn state behind us. No offense Montana, but you go on forever! And ever! Enough, we shouted at the sky, pumping our fists. Well, the shouting did not happen, but I did pump a fist (from the driver's seat - so powerful!) at the "Entering Wyoming" sign. Yesssssssss.

Lightening storms, rain, hail...South Dakota and Wyoming tried hard to discourage us, but we drove right through it all. While at the Little Big Horn we noticed how many bikers were there, but just figured it's summer, all the clubs are on the road. Most of them looked normal - CPA's the rest of the year, leather-bandana-vest clad bikers, chaps (not assless, and God forbid they should be with some of the figures we saw)putting that bad boy swagger in their walk for their vacation time. Then there were the Bandidos I ran into at Little Big Horn (LBH), a personal hated scourge of mine among these ridiculous and arrogant bikers. I was a young girl in college, out to a bar with friend Teresa (of the long blond hair and future missionary), when one of these filthy pigs took a like to her. He tried "wooing" her, they bothered us for about an hour, until the woo-ers skanky girlfriend came at Teresa mumbling something about "her man." We assured her, "Not interested!", which pissed her off more. They were scary, and we too young to realize how dangerous.

As I was trying to walk through this new group of Bandidos at the info center, I was saying, "Excuse me, pardon me, sorry...".....and none of them would move. Just stood in place, unwilling to show courtesy. Pissed me off, so I barralled through as best I could. Disgusting animals.

Soooo, back to South Dakota and our unwittingly entering Sturgis, of the biker celebration fame, or, as I call it - boobs, beer and bikes. We had absolutely no idea the biker fest was on, and may have avoided it if we had, but, as with most things that happen coincidentally in life, we had an interesting drive through town. Bikes on the right, bikes on the left, leather, skin, and more bikes ahead. Jam packed with bikes. Like this...

What friendly Hooters girls! Nice that they'd wave to Tony.

As we made it to I90 to continue down 79 to Hart's Ranch for three days, we were literally surrounded by hundreds of bikers. Quite loud. No helmuts - ride free motherfuckers! Make me puke. We had a grand morning and were making good time, when BANG! tire blows. Luckily it was an inside, rear tire, but man what a noise. That was about 3:30 or 4:00, and we were on our way again around 7:30. What a way to ruin a good plan. Rolled into Hart's late, set up in the dark, but are now happily ensconced here. It is a huge RV Park with cabins and tents too, almost like a little city.

After an excellent night's sleep - finally - we set off at the break of noon to Deadwood. Drove through excellent treed country, canyons, beautiful lakes. And more bikers. No shit, ten to a pack, going both directions. Many of the bars and restaurants were jammed with them. And Deadwood....check it out:

Unbelievable, up and down the historic street, every nook and cranny. Most of them eating ice cream, not drinking beer. The town is supported by casinos, which is about every other store front. One, called the Celebrity, houses a bunch of Hollywood items, such as the car from a Bond movie, and various clothing outfits, like the wedding dress from Sleepless in Seattle. The three I liked the most are pictured below, the Deadwood series Swearingen's suit, and Married with Children's Peg's shirt, and Herbie the Love Bug:

We headed to Mt Moriah Cemetery in Deadwood, which houses Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane's graves.

It was getting late and Roku had been alone all day - with the air conditioning on, of course. But I was very worried about being gone that long, six hours by the time we stopped at a couple of stores and got back. He was fine, probably slept all day. Took him outside for a bit but a little doggy scared him. Tried again after dinner and we are glad to report he's doing so much better, really adapting.

Tired now, off to nighty-night. Love you all.