Can one mutilate something without damaging it?
Of course, the bigger question is: What events precipitated the construction of a sign explicitly prohibiting mutilation?
I think it's fair to hold people accountable for their own bathroom accidents.
It blew my sign off! Tomorrow's supposed to be even windier, so I'll wait until Saturday to install a new one (I brought extras!).
Day 84
After several forays through swamps and fields, and a climb onto a railroad embankment, I finally made it out to a more walkable road.
My inflatable sleeping pad has sprung a few leaks that I've been unable to successfully patch, so my parents mailed a new one (or, rather, my dad's not-used-much one) to the post office in Jamestown, where I'll be resting my feet for a few days.
I dedicate this picture of the "World's Largest Buffalo" to my fantastic father and to all the other great dads out there, present and past.
North Dakota provides free WiFi at many of their rest areas.
Fortunately, this was not a road I needed to travel.
An extremely kind and giving woman, she invited me in without hesitation, gave me a bed for the night, and made sure my belly was full of homecooked food, both during my stay and well into the future.
Daisy (I learned her name when her owners finally tracked her down) walked with me for about eight miles today. She chased after every living thing she saw/heard/smelled, resulting in some good wildlife sightings for me: deer, fox, porcupine, and all sorts of waterfowl.
That's what I was asked by Tim, a bearded gentleman driving a white car. Coming just a few minutes after a nice fellow in a truck handed me a hamburger, it felt like the appropriate thing to drink. Then I realized: he called it a soda! After more than 1000 consecutive miles in steadfast "pop" territory, I've started hearing "soda" again (though not exclusively) in the past few days.
Also, and I'd have to check my notes to verify this, I believe that every time someone has offered me a soft drink on the road (it's happened a handful of times), it's been a Pepsi.
To reiterate from a previous post, it's not uncommon for someone to let me stay on their property but not want to have anything else to do with me. When I don't write about where I stayed for an evening, this is usually what's happened.
From a distance it looked like the post was made of antlers, which would have been considerably awesomer.
I had a good chuckle back in Minnesota when I came across toilet paper covering miles of sealed asphalt cracks, but now I laugh no more. I can't tell you how many times today my feet got stuck in the hot, gooey sealant covering this road.
I think I saw Martha Stewart build one of these on her holiday special.
