Sleeping in the Chevy

On the road from Winnipeg to , Wheatland, Wyoming, Mona and I camped in Rapid City, South Dakota for a few nights. We had some time to spare and thought we'd take in Mount Rushmore and a few other memorable sights.

We found a camp sight in Piedmont, just on the edge of the Black Hills, and pitched a tent for the night. That first night a light sprinkle washed off the dust, with a bright shining sun in the early morning.

About midday, as we were out in Rapid City, half way through a human maze, a storm blew in from the north and ransaced our campsight. When we arrived, we found our tent flat on the ground in a puddle. Sleeping bags and pillows were soaked. We pulled out our gear and put it in several dryers, then went to the only indoor place around -- a biker bar. Mona and I spent the next couple of hours talking to bikers from all over the country and hearing their heroing stories of surviving the torent on two wheels.

That night, midnight brought in another round of storms. Lighting, beginning on the distant horizon, edged its way closer. By 1 A.M. we were high-tailing it to the truck from our tent in the trees. Lightning was so prevelent that with my eyes closed it looked like Mona was flashing her headlamp in my face.

We're very thankful for this Chevy, but I never thought I'd end up spending the night in the passenger seat being rocked to sleep by derecho winds.