Kindness and generosity

All night long the rain had poured down in buckets, but my little tent kept us warm and dry. The wind is brutally beating against the tent now so I figure we'll wait and see if it calms down...no luck. It actually picks up so that by 11:00 it's a consistent 45 mph. Talk about a challenge!

Anyways, we make it into Stanford and stop in at the convenience store so Bud can eat out of the wind and I can get some coffee. Glo (the lady at the counter) thinks I'm a bit crazy, but she donates some beef jerky to show her support. Bud's always thrilled to receive the blessings that people bestow. Boy, his tail starts wagging the moment he senses a treat's in store.

From there, we cross the street to an RV park hoping they'll let us pitch a tent for the night. The ladies in the office are really nice and interested in the journey. I'm just about to pay when Alverta declares: 'I'd like to pay for you. Bobby,' she says, turning to the owner, 'I'll pay for this young man.'

'Well, thank you.' I say. 'That's awfully kind of you.' I give 'em both cards so they can follow the trip, and they give me some good info about being on my guard as I get closer to Glendive and N Dakota.

I choose a spot behind a fence that partially blocks the ruthless eastern wind, but even so, it takes twice as long to erect the tent and get all the gear situated. I leave Bud to rest and go to the restaurant across the road. I'm eating a burger and learnin' about the area from a guy named Bob who's sittin' opposite me and listening to the banter around the room.

Mind you. I don't often make an effort to listen in on other people's conversations, but sometimes the volume is at a level where no effort is required. From the discussion that ensues with the table to the right, I'm left to believe that most of the men in these parts are 'sons of bitches.' And although I'd probably find other adjectives to describe friends or colleagues, somehow it kind of fits the setting here.

I finish up and make a quick jot next door to see if Glo's got any ice-cream bars. She donates a strawberry short cake bar with the pretext that she hates 'em and sends me off with a couple of sausages for Bud. (Thanks Glo! He devoured the dogs with an amazingly voracious tenacity.

Now, listening to the howling wind and the trucks as they plow on by, I've lost feeling in my upper digits, which means, it's time to mummy up and and let the vapors condense on the inner lining of my bag.