As we raced cross country this past week. we encountered some wicked storms through the midwest that had me humming along to the Door’s “Rider’s on the Storm” and feeling like I was a bit in a horror film.
There were times when we could barely see five inches in front of us. There were times when trucks would come out of the storm staring straight at us with their high beams on like a possessed evil truck from some John Carpenter film.
Right at the border of South Dakota and Wyoming and between Wyoming and Montana a fierce quick storm took place while we were on back roads. The eeriness was intoxicating. All of a sudden it felt like we were ghost hunters on the search for the next big scary creature. The wind howled. The rain pounded. The car held steady. Who…
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