During one epic journey, what seemed like never-ending car troubles plagued us from the time that we were just far enough away from home not to turn around. Mid-sweltering American summer, the AC went out. Next was the timing belt and then a breakdown of unknown reasons halfway during our trek up the side of a winding mountain in Wyoming, I think it was. Waiting for help on the shoulder, one of us had to pee and headed to the woods. We hurried back to the car after a Black Bear sighting too close for comfort. As repairs were made, we were stuck in a ramshackle hotel in the middle of nowhere that night, the only one for miles, with what appeared to be a hole from a shotgun through the front window of the living room. That was only the beginning.
Touring the geysers of Yellowstone National Park by day and camping in tents at night, we had to padlock food in a heavy-duty crate to keep the bears from devouring our rations, and shake jingle bells hanging from our wrists as we walked to the outhouse in the dark, to keep the bears from devouring us. Finally making it to Mount Rushmore, clouds fogged our view for hours. We sat at the foot of Devil's Tower for almost an entire day, digging through the tiny gift shop over and over again and playing in the dust while my dad sourced yet another part for the car. As kids, we weren't sure what to make of Crazy Horse, still under construction. We complained a lot then, but those are some of my favorite recollections now.
We created five lifetimes worth of memories, laughing, bantering, and living along the way. I would never trade any of those experiences for the convenience of a forty-five minute flight, distracted by an iPhone.
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