When the metaphorical shit hit fan in regards to getting our move on, the copilot was hot on the idea of trying to get back on our original schedule. Which meant driving for 12 hours and skipping Mount Rushmore. My only ambition for the trip. I put a Mount Rushmore foot down (which is a huge granite presidential foot, of course).
Aaaand BOOYAH! Trip = total unqualified success, everyone go home now. And on Memorial Day no less, very apropos.
Apparently the original plan was to sculpt all of them down to the waist, which would have been at least twice the work of what was actually completed. But the $$ ran out, and what they ended up with is still awe inspiring.
I was feeling a little sad over breakfast about, you know, the whole major life change thing happening. My copilot thought it over. "Would it make you feel better if I took a picture of you where it looked like you were picking George Washington's nose?"
|Why yes, yes it would.|
On a little bit of a whim, we also went to see the (mostly unfinished) mountain sculpture of Crazy Horse. An absurdly ambitious endeavor that's been in progress since 1948, if it's ever finished (and that's a big if) it will be the largest sculpture in existence. All the heads of Mt Rushmore combined are the size of the Crazy Horse head. We were dubious that it would be worth the price of admission, but a couple minutes after we arrived they blasted a section of the rock with dynamite. Blowing stuff up real good is a quintessential part of the American experience.
|Crazy Horseing - the new Tebowing?|
On to Bozeman, MT.