the amount of gasoline that was purchased for me to ride my beloved ol' mountain bike down (that i've had since i was 20... 18 years to be exact) into the hills of South Dakota could most likely keep a small continent running on oil for years
the 'woman power' that it took for my little labas (Hungarian for legs) to reach the top after easily gliding down to the lake was like i was pulling a load of fallen timber up from pasture to the cabin
it's no surprise then why we chose tent camping
miles after miles of sucking down the gas just by pulling a trailer full of bikes, tents, produce from the garden, cast iron skillets and pj's, (why wear anything else while camping? why not stay in those sweat pants and t-shirt for the entire trip? — i would like to add it took two washings using my homemade laundry soap to get the smell out of my 11 year old son's camouflage t-shirt he insisted was his camping uniform) we would watch these houses with 6 wheels go traveling down the highway teetering in the wind while driving through the Badlands while the driver sat in a lazy boy driver's seat steering his traveling home most likely as his wife was making him supper in the oven while watching something pleasurable on the television
that is a much different scene than was happening along side this man's pleasure machine/house/bus/vacation home
a teething one year old at any given moment would hurdle crying obscenities that resonated like the caverns we went spelunking in Montana as we were all sandwiched between our now fit and trim bodies we worked into shape while mountain biking, kayaking and holding each other tightly during the coldest morning of our lives thus far
i started resenting the seat belt
wondering how it is humane
why is my baby having to be strapped into this man made torture contraption? why cannot i not hold him in the back seat like my mom used to hold me in our station wagon wearing the coolest denim bell bottoms while listening to soft rock
again... doors... being within the confines of doors i am coming to think is definitely not natural
gasoline
$$guzzle$$ guzzle
it could almost be a swear word: gas = $!*
even to the hills of South Dakota
but we need it to get to church, the restaurant to meet friends, through 17 hours in a 12' x 5' four wheel drive vehicle towing a trailer through South Dakota and Minnesota, and to the emergency room to stitch up daring daughter's forearm after mountain biking down said mountain...
thoughts of using Jordan as my horsepower pulling a wagon while fighting off hostile Indians sounded more appealing that having to stay in the car for 17 hours... but we all got through it... and we are stronger and more resilient from it
at 7,815 feet above sea level... the Black Hills, South Dakota
spending time like that was worth any amount of sore labas or scar on a girl's forearm
peace + fueled blessings,