Yesterday, my alarm clock went off at 4:00am. Normally, I’d be going to bed at 4:00am on a Saturday morning, or doing a “walk of shame” across a city or something. Yesterday was different, however, so different that I thought my alarm clock was broken. I bought it off eBay, in case you’re wondering. It has a hard driven built in, and two speakers, allowing me to wake up to “Regular People” by Pantera any day of the week. If you’re reading this, you need one.
I managed to get out the door by 5:15am, not leaving the house until I heard the train go by. No one wants to start their day waiting for a train, right? At the crossing, there were what appeared to be four random puddles, most people may not even take notice. Knowing how I grew up, this was definitely the result of a truck full of young guys headed home, and when they had to stop for the train anyways, they multi-tasked with a much-needed piss-break. The human body can only hold so much beer… I never did see another vehicle in the first eighty miles of my journey. It was a balmy one-degree above freezing, and the Northern Lights were dancing really nice, even spotted a shooting star (or a crashing UFO).
Our journey started in Weyburn at 8:00am, and I managed to get there right on time, partially thanks to the five cups of coffee I’d already had. We jumped in the ’38 Ford Sedan, and we were off to meet the other car a few miles South. What a great car that sedan is. 350 Chevy automatic, Mustang II front end, and the cushiest seats a guy could ask for. I never took my wallet out of my back pocket, as I never noticed it was back there the whole trip. We met up with the little green ’28 Model A Sedan, headed out across the border into North Dakota, and looked for a change of scenery. First stop was a photo opportunity descending into a valley. The view was cool, but I was more impressed with all the empty beer cans and full piss jugs, myself. People stop here a lot apparently.
Next stop: Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It’s all really weird, hollow sandstone. There’s stuff slid all over the place, bison roaming around, and neat spherical boulders. The views are pretty crazy, as well. There’s hiking trails, but I’m not confident anyone gets out once they get down in there.
Our lunch stop was in Watford City at Siggy’s Sandwich. It’s a neat old service station turned into a restaurant. I had a Santa Fe Salad, and everyone else had a sandwich. The pulled pork looked pretty amazing, and if you’re into it, I suggest you check this place out. With the exchange rate, it’s likely a $20.00 lunch, but it’s pretty worth it. Don’t forget to look for the “NSSR” tag I left of the blackboard gumball machine in chalk, that I apparently forgot to take a picture of…
After that, we headed to the Fairview Lift Bridge and Cartwright Tunnel. There’s tons of history on it if you give it a Google sometime. I took a ton of pictures, up to and including the creative graffiti, and a spot in the middle of the tunnel where kids obviously party. There were some wooden pallets and some decent sized logs stacked there untouched, so I assume events were to transpire in the not-so-distant future.
Our last stop before crossing the border was in Williston to drop off a calendar at the new home of a car that left our club. It looks as good as ever, and the new owner is pretty happy with it, as well (not to mention he’s a cool guy). What was the point of this trip? It was a sunny day in November with no snow. They’re hot rods, we’re hotrodders, and you just have to drive them when you can. I got to bed at 2:00am, after a tall-can Monster and two Rockstars between Williston and home. Not a bad twenty-two-hour day at all.