A Sliver of Hope

Well, it looks like I owe you all 50 bucks because Katie—surprisingly—got her stuff together and we are back in Buffalo. Katie’s bank account number is 086179243. Go ahead and take the money I bet you last week.

Like I said, Katie’s car was in the shop and not doing so well. Because of that, she drove down to Rapid City to make sure everything was fine and if it wasn’t, she could take it to the dealership. I’ve never been more excited than our drive down to Rapid because there was a fairly good chance the car would blow up and we would both die in a fiery blaze. Unfortunately, we made it safe and sound. What kind of crap is that?

The next day she drove all over the Black Hills to see how the car handled at different speeds, around sharp corners, and on different surfaces. You know, because she’s a fricken mechanic and knows what to do if something went wrong… NOT.

Also, I’m pretty sure she just wanted to drive around with the windows down and music playing so she could pretend she was in some movie montage or an episode of The Hills or something. And yes—I can confirm that she did listen to Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten.”

We went to Deadwood where she walked around a really old cemetery for a while. I know we all assumed she was off her rocker when she decided to take a year off but apparently we now also need to be concerned that she’s a serial killer. Let’s be honest; none of us would really be surprised.

We then drove on some “highway” that was all gravel that went through a town of about 5 people in the middle of the Hills called “Mystic.” Seriously. Its name is “Mystic” and it has the church pictured below. It’s like she was asking to be murdered by some toothless man of the hills.

We then went to Mount Rushmore. Wtf is that? Is that what you humans spend your time and money on? Carving faces of dead guys into huge mountains and then charging people $20 bucks to see it? That’s ridiculous. Katie, being the cheap bitch she is, decided pulling over to the side of the highway to get George Washington’s profile was good enough for me.

After that we went on Iron Mountain Road, which is narrow, curving, and treacherous even with a good driver. I spent half the drive screaming and the other half vomiting (into Katie’s hair).

 Would you trust Katie driving on this road? Me neither.

 Oh yeah. There were tons of tiny tunnels on the road. Cuz that's safe.

 This sign and this driver are not a good combination.

 And then THIS sign happened...

Since everything seemed fine with the car, Katie bound, gagged, and dragged me back up to Buffalo. Let me tell you, after driving through the Hills thinking you were going to die going around every corner, the straight shot to Buffalo was boring and anticlimactic—although this time I, thankfully, didn’t have to listen to “Unwritten.”

 And this is why truckers go crazy and kill people

What’s funny is, the day we got to Buffalo it was 85 degrees. The next day it was cold and rainy before it dropped low enough to actually snow a little bit. Thankfully, Katie has an incredibly low BMI, which she pretends to be proud of. In actuality though, it’s the reason she has virtually no boobs, butt, or personality. What’s even better is it gives her the poorest circulation of anyone other than a premature infant who smokes. She’s spent the last two days shivering and making half-hearted attempts to get circulation going.

 A little dusting of snow, aka my salvation

At this rate, she’ll be dead by Thanksgiving! I’m full of hope. I’m Ivan Denisovich. God bless.