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Just finished taking a KOA Campground shower, no way I’d pay the camping rates, but a five dollar shower is A OK by me. I’ve been staying in the National Forest campgrounds for the past few nights. It’s been great to be around some people. Fellow travelers to sit and chat with for a few minutes. There’s a beautiful young girl cleaning the shower stalls with an equally young boy. I began this trip with the ambition of being out by myself. Planting my car up in the middle of nowhere and doing nothing in the quiet peaceful scenery. I’ve had a lot of that, now my desire has shifted towards human interaction. I constantly find myself wishing to share the experience with someone. I’ll be cooking dinner, sitting beside a creek with nora, or watching a spectacular thunder storm and imagine teleporting someone I know or have met to my location. Just to share in the joy of the surroundings. Words to write are slow to come, usually they come fast. My whole entire process has slowed to a crawl. The excitement of being on the road is all but almost gone. No doubt there’s still exciting moments. When I first started the exciting moments were coming into a new territory, hearing a great story from some local folks, catching a fish on the river, watching the sun set. Now it’s getting stuck in the sand, having a forest ranger run my information, or surviving a near miss on the road. Not really the exciting moments one should want on a road trip, definitely not the ones I want. Sadly, these are the few times when my emotions seem to rise anymore. I went into a bar in Medora South Dakota, hoping for some human interaction. But I was to much of a stranger. Sat for 4 hours, eyes glued to the basketball game on tv, talking only with the bar tender when another drink was due. I’m debating wether or not to go into downtown Deadwood again tonight, but I know for certain it’s a worthless attempt. Bars are for drinking, and the human interaction is always second rate. I could drive down the road to find another campground, but i’d rather not spend money on a campground every night. So I’ll boon dock tonight somewhere around Deadwood. If someone is going to approach me they better be a shell cracker. My mind has become a bit numb, and my creativity in writing is lost to me.

Here’s an excerpt from an email I sent home to Mom a few days back, break up the depression a little…

“so Nora just about ended our trip this morning.
We were checking out the national forest, stopped to take some
pictures of the prairie dogs along the road, nora was in the passenger
seat, she saw one and flew out my window as I was taking pictures,
straight to the hole which she stuck her nose down.  I kid you not, as
soon as the dogs feet hit the ground a Park Ranger came around the
bend.  Me sitting in the car and nora running up to the prairie dogs
hole.  It took alot of explaining and apoligizing, 5 minutes of him on
the radio in his car staring at me, and then finally we were let go
with a verbal warning.  Anyways, all in all we’re still doing good.
Saw some giant Bison within a few feet from the car today as well,
norah wasn’t as sure of her self on that occasion.”

Today I’m in Medora, North Dakota. My fingernails have grown a lot since I last typed, making the keyboard feel foreign. Long fingernails have been an advantage with Nora bringing in a small army of ticks each day. Last time I wrote was in Michigan and I’ve covered plenty of ground since. Rainy June weather has driven me to rack up the miles as I ran along the southern shores of Lake Superior, then the northern borders of Minnesota and North Dakota. I’m feeling more and more drained as the trip goes on. In the beginning I use to fantasize about being on the road forever, now I dream of a homestead and family of my own. Not that this is necessarily what I actually want, but it seems to be the pleasant dream as of late. I still carry the itch to start cruising on a sailboat and it’s my goal for the end of this summer. Ideally I’ll wrap up my road trip in October, then finish saving for and begin hunting down the right boat. Moving onto a boat, which will be in a fixed location for a year or so, while I prepare to sail, should be a comfortable transition. My physical body yearns for a constant place of rest. Sleeping in the same location for an extended period of time is what I think I’m lacking right now. I sleep in the same bed every night, the problem is it’s always in a new location. I constantly find myself waking up due to disorientation. Always worried about a cop knocking on my door asking me to find a different spot. Last night I tried to sleep through an intense lightning storm in the Badlands of North Dakota. I was the only camper in a small canyon’s rustic campground. The rain dumped, the wind pushed, and lightning flashes burst one second after the other. Considering that some of the latest news I’ve been hearing on the radio was 16 dead in Arkansas flash floods I was scared. Supposedly inside a car is safe during a lightning storm, but this storm seemed to be touching everything. There were no visible strikes. I was in a solid cloud of lightning. As if I was actually up in the clouds as they struck the ground down below, feeling the energy from the top of the strikes instead of the bottom. The other night it was a gas station parking lot along an old highway. I had asked for permission from the owner to stay the night, but still I woke up at 1 and then again at 2, and so on. When I awoke I actually saw flashing police lights. Once I roll over and woke up a little more I could see there was nobody around and it was a bit of my own fiction. If it’s a walmart parking lot at 2am I’m listening to the conversation of the employees changing shifts. I’m ready for a place where the sounds at night are somewhat familiar and my concerns of being asked to leave are not. I am still happy on the road however. The scenery has been spectacular and the people are getting better. I met people on the east side of this country that I cherish, but the west is where I’m most comfortable with other humans. Probably due to the simple fact that I grew up in the west. I’m finally done with the plain lands, which I know now reach from the gulf of mexico all the way up to the canadian border. I’m just getting to edge of the Rocky Mountain landscapes. After the western dakotas I’ll head into wyoming, then down to colorado and new mexico. Can’t wait to meet up with my family in New Mexico this fall. I find myself thinking of this occasion daily now. I’m drawn more and more to meeting people. It’s healthy for me, I’m not interested in relationships just company. I find myself talking more and more frequently. Something has clicked or changed inside of me where I’m no longer anxious and burdened feeling when striking up conversation. The road has allowed me to accept who I am and also who others are. For a long time I think my disability was a burden when talking with others. After I was injured, the problem was that I no longer knew who I was. After 18 years of life it was like being sent back to the first grade playground again. First I had to accept my new situation, with the next step trying to understand how people related to my new situation. Trying to understand how people view me now is still a challenge. What they might think, or how they feel to react, doesn’t bother me. But, I feel that for me to relate to them and understand why their approach may seem so weird to me, I have to try and understand a bit of where they’re coming from. Here’s some thought….
Tall people and short people. Set all disabilities, social disorders, sexes, and physical makeup aside. Just think about everyone as complete equals, except in height and it’s given attributes. I use to be six feet tall, now I sit somewhere under 4 feet. I’ve had a few people pat me on the head, some of them I used to be able to kiss with my stomach. Anyways, it’s literally an order of hierarchy, people thinking differently about people based completely on their height. I often find myself being approached from the angle a child would instead of a six foot tall adult. Disabilities aside I know there is some inherent tendency in people to almost humble themselves to those of a taller stature, and vis a versa, expect the opposite. Who knows where that comes from or what that is. Just a thought…
Basically, I’m tired. I’ve been meeting great people on the road lately. Don’t know if that’s just the luck of my timing or who I’ve become on the road. Or maybe a disability accepted and an old self found.

a little town called Paradise, Michigan. It’s a really little town, with one flashing light. There’s no fast food, no walmart supercenter, and maybe not even a police station. I love these little towns, people here just don’t care. The good and warm kind of not caring, the not caring that matters.
My head is foggy, slowly clearing up and the sun is slowly coming out. I had one toxin filled weekend, a memorial day spent trying to completely destroy my memory. I’m slowly coming back into my travel groove. And I love my travel groove, it’s me, my mind is alive when I’m in my travel groove. Life may not make any more sense when I’m traveling. But at least there’s more of it, and more non sense helps to make non sense feel alright. Just a little non sense is annoying, and a ton just seems normal. I’m I making any sense?
Not sure why I went for a mentally hazardous weekend. I smoked to much weed and drank to much beer and wasted to much good food. Somewhere in the middle I swam across Heart Lake, and back. Got really emotional. The second night(i believe), as I sat around the campfire with about 20 michiganians, I began to cry. I can’t tell you why for sure, probably just overwhelmed by suddenly being around so many nice people. Somebody reminded me of my brother, they had the same name was all. There was an uncle Bob, and I have an uncle Bob. Anyways, I was high, and highly emotional, and started crying. I was talking about swimming across heart lake then this crying story? what.
The trip has been great. Ups and Downs as usual. My mind has gaps in it right now, upending my efforts to convey.
I saw Niagara falls. There where tons of Indians there. Not Native Americans, but people from India. They were on both the US and Canada side. Should of asked one of them why, but I was to busy watching an unbelievable amount of water drop from a cliff. There’s so much mist and water in the air it’s impossible to see the majority of the falls. The air had the most refreshing quality I’ve experienced to date. Pulling up to niagra falls was a bit like pulling up to disney land, it was as if they had captured the great Niagara falls, put it in a park and where selling tickets to view. All in all it was a great deal. The indian food was delicious and the waterfall was spectacular.
Alot’s happened between the falls and me now sitting in my car along lake superior in michigan. Please excuse my lazy grammar and thought processing, and be sure to check my youtube channel this fall for everything I didn’t tell you about here. yada yada yada yada yada yup.

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