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Portal Montana stretched so far ahead that it dropped below the curvature of the earth and disappeared into North Dakota, where herds of antelope crossed the highway and the greain really did ripple in waves.
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THE MONTANA ROAD ran in a straight
line through a luxurious expanse of one-crop farms. Montanta stretched
so far ahead that it dropped below the curvature of the earth and disappeared
into North Dakota, where herds of antelope crossed the highway and the
grain really did ripplein waves. Their ripening buds shone golden in
the sunlight, and the blue sky looked like infinity.
I was so inspired by all this greatness, America the Beautiful burst forth from my very soul, even though I couldn't quite remember all the words -- you know, whether "purple mountain majesty" comes before or after the "fruited plains" part. I sang at the top of my lungs through two small towns and past a missile silo. And still the road rolled on, a straight shot to the horizon, where a black cloud shaped like a fire-breathing dragon hovered low in the sky, smack in my path. Descending from the heavens, it blew bolts of lightening from nostrils filled with gray whirlpools of smoke. I knew it was coming to get me. The wind rose and the dragon grew to cover the blue sky with black, and amazingly a town rose up from the prairie. It looked like the Emerald City from afar, but close up it was Trucker Town Heaven, and studded with cheap motels. I ran to the first one with a vacancy sign, abandoning the Ural between a minivan and a station wagon. The heavy glass door shut behind me, and with a crash of lightning that shook the building, the sky opened up. . . . . . read the rest of this story in American Borders - the book |
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