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"IN MEMORY OF MARY LOGSDON" - IN NOTE SECTION OF CHECK

AUGUST 10, 2006 - FOR AMBER WAVES OF GRAIN PART I I

I was ripped off today. As far as I know, it was the first time it has happened, but let me get to that later. As I mentioned before, I was at La Casa, a small motel in Glasgow, Montana. Believe me, there is NO comparing the two cities. The one in Scotland has far more to do AND covers more ground. Brian (my cousin) Logsdon says that there are only one million people in ALL OF MONTANA.  After I made my weekly call to Dick Purtan, I was off to points east.

When I drove out of Glasgow, I was headed east, into the sun and into what can only be called part of the breadbasket of the United States. Farms - mostly grain farms - literally created a patchwork quilt on the floor of vast valleys between higher promontories.  I snapped some photos in attempts to capture that feel and look of a huge quilt.  The land would start to flatten out and then ever so gradually; it would begin to undulate as it did yesterday. Gone were the gullies that I had seen in southern Montana. If you have ever snapped a sheet onto a bed and watch the captured air slowly dissipate from underneath, you will have some kind of idea as to what the earth looked like as the Harley and Wilson and I moved toward the border with North Dakota.

I had noticed that the gas gauge was showing a 1/4 down, meaning that there were still ¾ of a tank. I had just entered a reservation and noticed a gas station on my left. It was Farmers Union Oil Station and I was in Poplar, Montana.  I pulled in and used my debit card, yes the replacement for the one that was left in Arizona. Everything was in order. When I lifted the handle and selected the premium grade. I noticed that the pump immediately registered that I had pumped in .13 of a gallon. That's odd; I hadn't even used it yet. I thought, oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound and pumped till it the auto shutoff took effect. When I looked at the amount of gas that I had pumped, I was shocked to learn that I had put in 2 ½ gallons. Hmmmm, based on the place that the gas guage showed in the first place, I had suddenly acquired a 10 gallon tank.  I was pissed, but when I looked at the number of people in the area, I thought that I should just keep going, which is what I did. NOTE TO SELF: PURCHASE FROM A KNOWN CHAIN OF STATIONS, REGARDLESS OF WHERE YOU ARE IN THE COUNTRY.

You will never see me at another "Gasoline by Steve" again.  I had decided to stop in Wolf Point, Montana the home of the "Wolves". Gosh, really? Wolf Point isn't the home of the Fighting Shamrocks or the Battling Bathers? And THAT'S another thing. How come my high school actually WAS the Fighting Shamrocks? OH GREAT, we get a three leaf plant for a mascot, and these kids in Montana get a Wolf…. Shit.  Oh, sorry, not wolf shit, Wolf - period - SHIT.

I rode through town because I wanted to find a three prong to two prong plug adapter. Some of the motels I have been in were old enough that the charger cord for the computer wouldn't work and I wanted to have that piece of equipment.

Here's what I noticed about downtown Wolf Point. It had bars, Cowboy Bob's and The Western, and others. It actually had a post office. Wolf Point had two banks, two thrift stores and the hardware store I was looking for. I walked in and asked the lady behind the counter for the item previously mentioned. This is how she handled it. Oh by the way, there was a Ben Franklin store attached to the hardware store. Clerk: "Go into the hardware store, notice where the carpet changes color; that's the hardware store. Count down three aisles, turn right. On your right about two and a half feet down from the end and exactly three feet up from the floor you will see the adapter. There are two left and they are both grey. They sell for $1.59 each." She knew her shit. I bet if I had asked for any item in the store she would have had a handle on where it was, what color it was and how many of that item were left.

As I exited BEST HARDWARE AND BEN FRANKLIN in Wolf Point, there were other things I noticed. There was a guy selling straw cowboy hats out of the back of his van. Were the stolen? I don't know. Was the price right? I believe it was. Did I buy one? NOPE. Then I noticed who nicely the pieces of broken beer bottles all over the streets of town reflected the sunlight. Most were the dark brown variety of glass shards, but there were some nice green ones too.

I got back on Route 2 and headed east, right into a 18 mile long construction project.  This is what the motorcyclists from yesterday had warned me about. I was behind a large - HOLY CRAP HE'S SPRAYING WATER ALL OVER THE ROAD - truck. Needless to say, the road got what I call "snotty". It was covered in dirt from the large amounts of construction traffic and the water was to keep the dust down. I fought that for all of the 18 miles. Sometimes on pavement and sometimes on gravel road surface, but all of it wet.  The bike handled the situation well, though, and I had no immediate problems.

Soon after the construction zone ended, I rounded a hill and snapped a photo of the WELCOME TO NORTH DAKOTA sign. Almost immediately, I noticed a change in the topography as the bike gunned it's way toward Minot, North Dakota. The biggest change was in the types of crops being grown on the farms I passed. Many of the grains (barley, oats and wheat) had been cut and the remaining plant material baled into straw. I have shot many photos of the various manners in which both hay and straw are baled. Out here, the work of harvesting is done by contractors who truck huge combines around the country to take off the grain in the fields for a flat rate. There might be three or four of these large machines that will work an area for one week, then move west. Of course there are a large number of these contractors, who really are the gypsies of the agricultural world. They will be on the road for months, harvesting everything from sunflowers to barley to wheat to corn to oats, and more.

The ride to Minot was uneventful, but visually very pretty. I especially liked the sunflowers growing in thousand acre fields, all bowing their heads in prayer.  I will remain here for a couple of days at least, since I have medications that I need to pick up here. I hope that they will be there by the 12:30 PM closing on Saturday, if they are not, then I have to wait around here until Monday to catch them. In the meantime I am going to explore.

There is a B 52 airbase here, part of the old NORAD system. They are still in operation, even though they are almost as old as I am. They are called BUFFs by the pilots and crews. BUFF stands for BIG UGLY FAT F**KER  but this airplane has a rich and well deserved history.  I also want to find a swimsuit so I can go use the pool here at the DAKOTA INN.  I will NOT buy a white one, like I did a few years ago. What a debacle THAT was…and a story for another time.