This blog deserves to go in the pages of his history as it is.
This one will live on for the summer.
m4trips.blogspot.com
Lups/Anna
Monday, June 1, 2015
Sunday, March 15, 2015
What's up guys!
So.
Canada. I started planning on the next spring tonight, and I came up with two sad little road blocks.
First is California. This will be a week next month and it sadly will be Anna on the road again. The second is: Canada apparently will not be only Canada.
All in all, this blog won't hit the signature in bimmerpost probably again, but planning will start this week. I miss empty roads and high speeds. I miss Wyoming.
At the moment the plan is cooking, but it seems now, Peter II is not the car. This time around, the mods will be done straight away and the best of all, more sober writing will happen because I have the dogs with me this time around.
so, Kissa, Rabies and I. On the road soon. Just letting you know that the plan this time is sensible. I will see Canada. At some point.
ideas?
Anna
Canada. I started planning on the next spring tonight, and I came up with two sad little road blocks.
First is California. This will be a week next month and it sadly will be Anna on the road again. The second is: Canada apparently will not be only Canada.
All in all, this blog won't hit the signature in bimmerpost probably again, but planning will start this week. I miss empty roads and high speeds. I miss Wyoming.
At the moment the plan is cooking, but it seems now, Peter II is not the car. This time around, the mods will be done straight away and the best of all, more sober writing will happen because I have the dogs with me this time around.
so, Kissa, Rabies and I. On the road soon. Just letting you know that the plan this time is sensible. I will see Canada. At some point.
ideas?
Anna
Monday, September 8, 2014
AD (American Delivery) by Lups
Now, here is the post I've tried to work on for a long, long time. I'm sorry, I kind of like writing, so this will be a long one again.
As told before, this was my midlife crises, beginning at least. I dealt with police, I dealt with sheriffs, hell I survived the gas stations. I felt alone on the roads. I got to see America. What I learned was this.
Birth control is an issue here. I had to find a 14 year old girl crying next to Peter, because she had just found out she was expecting one. No one had told her the shit needed, and no was around to help her. Her mother according to her, was going to be a grandmother at the respectable age of 37.That was a hit for me personally since I believe in women having options and also letting children be kids for as long as possible.If you read this and you lost my number, but not the blog, I'm still willing to help with it all, A, Pm me some way, I'll sort it out. That's what I do in my real life.
I saw beauty in nature, I saw true beauty in people. I saw stupidity in many areas, but I saw real humans in the mix we from Europe just see as scum under our shoes. I saw love. I felt it too.
I made new friends. I made many of them. The Piano standard was mentioned before, but I have now two new people who know that I will help them with anything that will come along in life. Better yet for me, I can count on them too.
I saw diversity, I learned to hate my too white skin and I learned how to piss off the Koreans. That is easy, just drive an M4 through a storm of bugs and send them a photo saying you and Peter went for a Korean diet. It would be racist but since I respect any of those of those, it's just me being me.
I saw my future, I saw my past and I saw the most stupid things I've ever seen. America offered what was asked. I for one loved every damn minute of it, and as a conclusion I can only offer, that I've judged you on the basis of the idiots who come to Europe and eat without a knife in their hands, and the Washington crew.
I saw true love, I fell in love.
I felt being loved.
What I saw, will not go away:
What is real, it is forever.
Now the serious part being over, and I could write that shit for hours, but I spared you from it and moved on. No Pm's needed to thank me for that, you have my email if I want your comment, otherwise wall it is as usual.
This was supposed to be Lups notes in full, it never got anything reasonable written to it about the car I bought.What I learned about Peter is that he is not perfect by far. He is like I am. He goes off fast, and he can be controlled if enough of an ass is behind the wheel. He and I work on low revs, and we bloody hell smoke everyone who think we are here for the pose. The photo below was taken after washing him and I wanted to share the good results. Like I, he went to show me my place.
I learned that in modding, strength matters for shit, it's skills only world. I had none but beer as a bribe, or even better getting some and letting the hubby laugh at me, got him help me when I went ape.Rest of the mods will happen in secret and probably the labor will be outsourced. No way in hell can my ego take that disaster again.
This is how the nights ended. Laptop, bed, usually IRC or the bloody post I'm hooked on, and most of all, hotels.
Real horse power. Just go see Little Big Horn. Do a day. Do a search. Do a commitment. That place showed me the true meaning of what I've thought of myself. I might grow up a bit after this, but as usual, I'm not holding my breath. Working on it though.
Yes, I'm back, Back again, back in real life. My dog did not get me out of shopping by bringing us a duck for dinner. I did not bother to be bothered to correct the ladies telling me I should tell him to come to me, since I do not speak English at all and I do blank stare better than anyone. Lups. She or he if you have not met me, I'll take the title he also; car geeks are always male as we all know, is not going to play by the rules of others.
This blog is now a complete one.
I shared the reasons to write it.
I wrote it.
The only photos of me in the last 11 years are in it. This all was me. Completely.
Off I go to new adventures, Canada in the summer of 2015, and maybe an ED in between.
As an edit I have to say writing as tired I was yesterday made the editing this hell as usual. Sorry.
As told before, this was my midlife crises, beginning at least. I dealt with police, I dealt with sheriffs, hell I survived the gas stations. I felt alone on the roads. I got to see America. What I learned was this.
Birth control is an issue here. I had to find a 14 year old girl crying next to Peter, because she had just found out she was expecting one. No one had told her the shit needed, and no was around to help her. Her mother according to her, was going to be a grandmother at the respectable age of 37.That was a hit for me personally since I believe in women having options and also letting children be kids for as long as possible.If you read this and you lost my number, but not the blog, I'm still willing to help with it all, A, Pm me some way, I'll sort it out. That's what I do in my real life.
I saw beauty in nature, I saw true beauty in people. I saw stupidity in many areas, but I saw real humans in the mix we from Europe just see as scum under our shoes. I saw love. I felt it too.
I made new friends. I made many of them. The Piano standard was mentioned before, but I have now two new people who know that I will help them with anything that will come along in life. Better yet for me, I can count on them too.
I saw diversity, I learned to hate my too white skin and I learned how to piss off the Koreans. That is easy, just drive an M4 through a storm of bugs and send them a photo saying you and Peter went for a Korean diet. It would be racist but since I respect any of those of those, it's just me being me.
I saw my future, I saw my past and I saw the most stupid things I've ever seen. America offered what was asked. I for one loved every damn minute of it, and as a conclusion I can only offer, that I've judged you on the basis of the idiots who come to Europe and eat without a knife in their hands, and the Washington crew.
I saw true love, I fell in love.
I felt being loved.
What I saw, will not go away:
What is real, it is forever.
Now the serious part being over, and I could write that shit for hours, but I spared you from it and moved on. No Pm's needed to thank me for that, you have my email if I want your comment, otherwise wall it is as usual.
This was supposed to be Lups notes in full, it never got anything reasonable written to it about the car I bought.What I learned about Peter is that he is not perfect by far. He is like I am. He goes off fast, and he can be controlled if enough of an ass is behind the wheel. He and I work on low revs, and we bloody hell smoke everyone who think we are here for the pose. The photo below was taken after washing him and I wanted to share the good results. Like I, he went to show me my place.
Rag came back out, and I had words with tires later. I won, Peter is a nice boy when Mum is mad.
I look like shit. Peter looks like shit, but the clouds are perfect. I stand by my words, LBH is is a way to think what to do next.
This is how we see from Europe see America. Straight road,, and a bend just to make someone wake up. What I learned is that we are not wrong, but we also are snobs in ways that made me feel bad. Just talk to the real people, they do not drive M's but they will make it worth while.
I learned that in modding, strength matters for shit, it's skills only world. I had none but beer as a bribe, or even better getting some and letting the hubby laugh at me, got him help me when I went ape.Rest of the mods will happen in secret and probably the labor will be outsourced. No way in hell can my ego take that disaster again.
It is no Golden Gate. But for me, it was more beautiful.
Yes, I know, in the middle of the lanes! I drive like an ass, how is that news?
You know guys, you are lucky, this could've been a blog about me and a Prius.
When I took this shot, it was to apologize to a loved one. It ended up it meaning a new beginning, and also it gave me a picture to show you, that the readers did good and I loved the attitude I got. I got very little shit for this blog and I appreciate it. I loved sharing this all with you.
Greg from Oregon, you will have an entire lecture ahead of you about architectural America. This photo took work. The people in my hotel actually scouted routes for me to take Peter near the arch, constructions going around it atm. I wanted you to still to know, that I appreciated the input you do every day. It made my way around beautiful and even though that is the Finnish input to this continent, I think as a way for us to do it, it indeed is a way for me to learn from. Thanks for the work. Lets do the meet.
To me, these moments were the reasons to do this all. I had a beautiful beast under me, a view and most of all, the beast told me about my fuckups. Guys, My way rocks. Truly, if someone wants to go wild, I'll do as my best friend did for me, and I'll be your hotel booking assistant. Trust me, either of us had no idea where I'd land for the night. I told him when I was done for the night, and he googled according to my location the nearest Lups approved ( yes, a bitch with standards) hotel.
THIS HAPPENED ON A CLOSED TRACK LIKE WITH EVERYONE ELSE. After that nannies went off, I didn't feel like taking the camera out again, and after the side winds killed my ego, this actually was the only speed run photo to show you.
(yes, I had to call a friend to ask how. Fu Karussell for making me look bad in every turn!)
162 is what I've done in Peter, and as mentioned above, it of course was not on a road. I have proof of that to offer though, thanks to the boys in blue.
Dude. In some butt fucked city. in a middle of a field. and not even pointing the right way? Adult in me modded that a little and I'm sure it'll be posted here if someone sees the mods ever.
This is how the nights ended. Laptop, bed, usually IRC or the bloody post I'm hooked on, and most of all, hotels.
The morning after. Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. Water. Hating life.
Real horse power. Just go see Little Big Horn. Do a day. Do a search. Do a commitment. That place showed me the true meaning of what I've thought of myself. I might grow up a bit after this, but as usual, I'm not holding my breath. Working on it though.
This is what Peter II gets to keep. Okay, I own up to the tent and the sleeping bag in the trunk, but I can't give those away to the kids yet. In the back of Peter, if I have not played with the brakes again, you can find a fish hat from Yellowstone. Peter the III (I'm taking your idea Tacoma, a pole (I think that word went stripper on me, but anyway, written before coffee and no alcohol was involved sadly) will be done with the name), will have a lot to carry along just to keep all the memories alive and with me.
Yes, I'm back, Back again, back in real life. My dog did not get me out of shopping by bringing us a duck for dinner. I did not bother to be bothered to correct the ladies telling me I should tell him to come to me, since I do not speak English at all and I do blank stare better than anyone. Lups. She or he if you have not met me, I'll take the title he also; car geeks are always male as we all know, is not going to play by the rules of others.
I shared the reasons to write it.
I wrote it.
The only photos of me in the last 11 years are in it. This all was me. Completely.
Off I go to new adventures, Canada in the summer of 2015, and maybe an ED in between.
As an edit I have to say writing as tired I was yesterday made the editing this hell as usual. Sorry.
The road back to normal life.
I've had hard time writing these two last entries, since truth to be told, I do not want the blog to end. It has indeed been so much fun to share with you all the stupid shit I've done, and I'll probably do a Christmas special for my friends by letting them read the take outs. I just went through the posts, and maybe 10% of the stuff written actually made it to the blog. I'm not happy about that, that means a lot of shit was left out, and I'll probably correct those a little and mail them to the those, who liked this shit. to get those, pm's will not work, just put it on the wall as usual. Finnish Joe, you got an road rage entry, Greg from Oregon, you have a lot of shit about buildings coming your way, mods have shit about them clean up the shit, since I know I deserve the bs I get and so on.
So. As usual I try not to be deep in the last posts, but I have to say, that the feedback has been wonderful. Probably 20 people have read this shit, and by entries, all probably Bimmerpost crew. It's nice to know that so many knows now not to piss of the bitch in the gay looking hornet.
Today I went to the Griot's Garage day, and SO many people came to me to tell me they loved the blog, and that they laughed their heads off reading this. I swore to the old dude there, I'd finish this, so I will do that now then.
Two things happened this weekend that made me rewrite this one completely. This won't be deep stuff, so even the comic book readers will be able to follow.
So. First was that a lovely girl that works on my Starbucks (yes, mine, get the fuck out of the left lane, and from there) asked me where the kids where, and I told her they were home with the dad of theirs. "Oh, he must love them more than you do".
I had to ask her how so, and her answer was well they are not with you, and you just were a month away from them, how can you? Well, here is the answer.
I work about 20 hours per day. No, I don't hoover, I don't do laundry, but I teach the kids stuff, and I am moving on with my own projects, and after all that, I go and try to make Peter's gas money. When the dear old hubby hobby comes home, I go do the shopping, dispense money by feeding those no one else cares for, and go walk the idiot Jack Russell just to keep me sane for the next match, which in my case is known as the school run. I love my life, that's why I do the things I do.
Now, I gave that as the answer, and the poor girl folded. "Well, in America, men never look after the kids, you are too free for our liking." Again, as said before, Fuck you girls are idiots. Have a life, the pups will be fine, and even more so if you stop pampering them.
The second one was at the meet today. This really young, maybe 25 year old boy spent some time with Peter, we talked with the group of his friends, and one of them said I ruin American women for them, and I asked how so, since I've heard those words once before in my life. He said, and I quote: "You just do the things you want to do, and nothing gets in your way."
Well he was wrong, left lane slow speed idiots get in my way, but in life I follow simple guide line: I'm here for a heat beat. I will be gone soon, not all of me if the memory stays. If I can make a tiny difference, it's good.
Life is supposed to be fun. Let's take it as that. A long ago I took myself seriously, and that was boring. Nowadays I laugh with the world, and most mornings wake up happy.
Now, after this, I will write up America. Then this blog is done. Next time around it will be the ED of the F80 I'm trying to sell to the married party as the family transport, or it it could be a bitter divorce blog about how men just know nothing about cars. From me, who never counted the seat belts, this will end up anyway as a chapter of fuckups in my life.
So. As usual I try not to be deep in the last posts, but I have to say, that the feedback has been wonderful. Probably 20 people have read this shit, and by entries, all probably Bimmerpost crew. It's nice to know that so many knows now not to piss of the bitch in the gay looking hornet.
Today I went to the Griot's Garage day, and SO many people came to me to tell me they loved the blog, and that they laughed their heads off reading this. I swore to the old dude there, I'd finish this, so I will do that now then.
Two things happened this weekend that made me rewrite this one completely. This won't be deep stuff, so even the comic book readers will be able to follow.
So. First was that a lovely girl that works on my Starbucks (yes, mine, get the fuck out of the left lane, and from there) asked me where the kids where, and I told her they were home with the dad of theirs. "Oh, he must love them more than you do".
I had to ask her how so, and her answer was well they are not with you, and you just were a month away from them, how can you? Well, here is the answer.
I work about 20 hours per day. No, I don't hoover, I don't do laundry, but I teach the kids stuff, and I am moving on with my own projects, and after all that, I go and try to make Peter's gas money. When the dear old hubby hobby comes home, I go do the shopping, dispense money by feeding those no one else cares for, and go walk the idiot Jack Russell just to keep me sane for the next match, which in my case is known as the school run. I love my life, that's why I do the things I do.
Now, I gave that as the answer, and the poor girl folded. "Well, in America, men never look after the kids, you are too free for our liking." Again, as said before, Fuck you girls are idiots. Have a life, the pups will be fine, and even more so if you stop pampering them.
The second one was at the meet today. This really young, maybe 25 year old boy spent some time with Peter, we talked with the group of his friends, and one of them said I ruin American women for them, and I asked how so, since I've heard those words once before in my life. He said, and I quote: "You just do the things you want to do, and nothing gets in your way."
Well he was wrong, left lane slow speed idiots get in my way, but in life I follow simple guide line: I'm here for a heat beat. I will be gone soon, not all of me if the memory stays. If I can make a tiny difference, it's good.
Life is supposed to be fun. Let's take it as that. A long ago I took myself seriously, and that was boring. Nowadays I laugh with the world, and most mornings wake up happy.
Now, after this, I will write up America. Then this blog is done. Next time around it will be the ED of the F80 I'm trying to sell to the married party as the family transport, or it it could be a bitter divorce blog about how men just know nothing about cars. From me, who never counted the seat belts, this will end up anyway as a chapter of fuckups in my life.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Returning to home.
I missed the hell out of my family while away, though I really needed the time apart too. Before the trip, I had spent one night without the kids altogether, so it was time to let go a little, or a lot, or even My way.
On Saturday I stepped on it and hurried home. The tire fuck up, fixing it, seeing what a Burger King actually puts in the wrappers, last few miles were in front of me.
I'm the caretaker of the family, I run the show mainly, and make sure everything is there when needed. I run around fixing things, putting out fires, then I go to my night job (time difference) and play stock market, and if I have a spare minute, I fill out health insurance papers for homeless, organize stuff to those who get housing of a sort, be pain in the ass to my friends to get them to see the people I gather from the streets, making sure someone maybe will be left better off after I leave the place I'm at at the time.
I try my best to sort out world crises by putting money as much as I can to girls getting to schools in third world countries, and after all that I open IRC and play the shrink to my fucked up friends and enemies, who's biggest problem usually is the extra time in their hands.
So, life is serious most of the time here at home, internet access is a must for me to get the heavy stuff floating in my head out for a while, and I have done well destroying it on my part. Even my dear old mkoesel can't keep all the shit I write out of the good eyes of the readers of the post, my lately favorite forum to litter.
I wanted this car as much as I wanted it for purely selfish reasons. For once, I was not to think of the ecological damage, I was not to think of the deeper meanings behind my long obsession with the M's and I sure as hell was not to think what else I could do with the money I threw to this project.
This was for pure pleasure. First thing I actually have bought for myself ever, if we don't count clothes and toothbrushes in years, nine to be exact.
I kept picturing my kids being happy for me, getting the joy I felt while in it, and I pictured the world being a bit different after my trip just because I would have the energy again to tackle every little and big thing with full force.
I ran upstairs to wake up my son Julian, who has been almost as obsessed with this project as I have been, but with the passion of a four year old. I got him our of his mattress (bed was demolished while I was away by a runaway dinosaur, I was told a few days earlier), and took him to see my beautiful car.
I don't approve us parents posting our kids everywhere all the time, but in this occasion I have to say the joy he felt is best shown by a picture.
"It's not an M3 Mum! It's not green! Dinosaurs will destroy this one for sure!"
He cried for an hour straight. It took me almost a day to get him in it, and even then I had to tell him the Audi is broken and if he want's to see an M3, we must go for a ride in mums car, which has less doors just to make it harder for the dinosaurs to destroy it.
To this happy image it would be lovely to end this blog, but I owe it to the country I've been putting down all my life to write a summary of my travels still. That will conclude Lups in America, the first of the two (I'm so doing this next summer too!) road trip files.
On Saturday I stepped on it and hurried home. The tire fuck up, fixing it, seeing what a Burger King actually puts in the wrappers, last few miles were in front of me.
I'm the caretaker of the family, I run the show mainly, and make sure everything is there when needed. I run around fixing things, putting out fires, then I go to my night job (time difference) and play stock market, and if I have a spare minute, I fill out health insurance papers for homeless, organize stuff to those who get housing of a sort, be pain in the ass to my friends to get them to see the people I gather from the streets, making sure someone maybe will be left better off after I leave the place I'm at at the time.
I try my best to sort out world crises by putting money as much as I can to girls getting to schools in third world countries, and after all that I open IRC and play the shrink to my fucked up friends and enemies, who's biggest problem usually is the extra time in their hands.
So, life is serious most of the time here at home, internet access is a must for me to get the heavy stuff floating in my head out for a while, and I have done well destroying it on my part. Even my dear old mkoesel can't keep all the shit I write out of the good eyes of the readers of the post, my lately favorite forum to litter.
I wanted this car as much as I wanted it for purely selfish reasons. For once, I was not to think of the ecological damage, I was not to think of the deeper meanings behind my long obsession with the M's and I sure as hell was not to think what else I could do with the money I threw to this project.
This was for pure pleasure. First thing I actually have bought for myself ever, if we don't count clothes and toothbrushes in years, nine to be exact.
I kept picturing my kids being happy for me, getting the joy I felt while in it, and I pictured the world being a bit different after my trip just because I would have the energy again to tackle every little and big thing with full force.
I ran upstairs to wake up my son Julian, who has been almost as obsessed with this project as I have been, but with the passion of a four year old. I got him our of his mattress (bed was demolished while I was away by a runaway dinosaur, I was told a few days earlier), and took him to see my beautiful car.
I don't approve us parents posting our kids everywhere all the time, but in this occasion I have to say the joy he felt is best shown by a picture.
"It's not an M3 Mum! It's not green! Dinosaurs will destroy this one for sure!"
He cried for an hour straight. It took me almost a day to get him in it, and even then I had to tell him the Audi is broken and if he want's to see an M3, we must go for a ride in mums car, which has less doors just to make it harder for the dinosaurs to destroy it.
To this happy image it would be lovely to end this blog, but I owe it to the country I've been putting down all my life to write a summary of my travels still. That will conclude Lups in America, the first of the two (I'm so doing this next summer too!) road trip files.
Peter and PMS
Yes, it's a he, but he has decided to demand oil refill every fifty meters or so, and never shuts up. He also insists I'm never wearing a seat belt and the lost key still haunts me. I have no idea where the hell I put it, but I guess it's a tradition with me to lose one in the start.
There I was, running around gas stations trying to find oil in a state that only had pick up trucks in it. That was fun for the first hour, then when I finally got to the car again, the bloody thing insists everything is fine again. This dance was done twice before I just kept the oil can in the front seat so I could show Candy she's being a bitch for no reason.
Anyway, I called our dear race specialist and complained, bitched and moaned for a while. Poor guy, gets every Lups has fucked up again call, since others who have seen my "FML why did this have to happen when people are around" don't know anything about cars, or are as sympathetic as my old combat boots.
Oh well, it's not leaking so censor is broken, I have to ask though, what the hell was wrong with a measuring stick, I hate that Candy does the job for me!?
So, I'm now out of oil every 50 miles or so for a while, and then alles ist gut again. Seat belt isn't on according to warning lights often, and the headlights don't like giving me a view of the road or the deers next to it, but all this is still livable.
What does drive me absolutely insane is the start and stop. For the life of me, I can't ever remember where to shut it off, and every once in a while I manage to hit the bloody button and I feel like an idiot in the lights waiting to hear if the bloody thing will start on me again, or did it die this time completely.
I've done this three times, and I assure you, I'm able to read, and to remember almost everything I see, but somehow that tiny detail eludes me every time. I think Candy keeps moving the bloody button just to make me call someone while shouting like a maniac. That's not an easy task anymore, since Candy has destroyed my voice completely.
Because of the oil crises of August 2014, and I admit it is a small in the scale one of you remembers as the oil crises of July 2014, I decided to get a hotel room one more time, and just chill for the night. Beer was opened, and sleep took me back to Wyoming.
Next morning it was the beautiful part of the I 90, Montana and mountains, Idaho (still sucked, and this time around it was daytime so no money was to be made) and after the tire incident told earlier, home. After being so long gone, I hurried to get there to see the happy faces of the kids, the lovely dogs and the dear old husband of mine. That, as usual did not go as planned, But it's the next story.
Here was the last place I pulled over for, knowing a hell waits me down there after the mountains. As usual, I was right.
There I was, running around gas stations trying to find oil in a state that only had pick up trucks in it. That was fun for the first hour, then when I finally got to the car again, the bloody thing insists everything is fine again. This dance was done twice before I just kept the oil can in the front seat so I could show Candy she's being a bitch for no reason.
Anyway, I called our dear race specialist and complained, bitched and moaned for a while. Poor guy, gets every Lups has fucked up again call, since others who have seen my "FML why did this have to happen when people are around" don't know anything about cars, or are as sympathetic as my old combat boots.
Oh well, it's not leaking so censor is broken, I have to ask though, what the hell was wrong with a measuring stick, I hate that Candy does the job for me!?
So, I'm now out of oil every 50 miles or so for a while, and then alles ist gut again. Seat belt isn't on according to warning lights often, and the headlights don't like giving me a view of the road or the deers next to it, but all this is still livable.
What does drive me absolutely insane is the start and stop. For the life of me, I can't ever remember where to shut it off, and every once in a while I manage to hit the bloody button and I feel like an idiot in the lights waiting to hear if the bloody thing will start on me again, or did it die this time completely.
I've done this three times, and I assure you, I'm able to read, and to remember almost everything I see, but somehow that tiny detail eludes me every time. I think Candy keeps moving the bloody button just to make me call someone while shouting like a maniac. That's not an easy task anymore, since Candy has destroyed my voice completely.
Because of the oil crises of August 2014, and I admit it is a small in the scale one of you remembers as the oil crises of July 2014, I decided to get a hotel room one more time, and just chill for the night. Beer was opened, and sleep took me back to Wyoming.
Next morning it was the beautiful part of the I 90, Montana and mountains, Idaho (still sucked, and this time around it was daytime so no money was to be made) and after the tire incident told earlier, home. After being so long gone, I hurried to get there to see the happy faces of the kids, the lovely dogs and the dear old husband of mine. That, as usual did not go as planned, But it's the next story.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
The Little Big Horn
This blog is supposed to be fun and games, but the reasons behind us moving here and for my a bit early midlife crises are not. We all have someone who means the world to us, and for me it was my dad. He passed away a year and a half ago, after a short time of being sick, and I got to enjoy the hell with the remaining family members and I getting along even better than before.
The thing about my father was that he was always handing out lessons about life and us humans, and the battle of the Little Big Horn was used as my favorite example when I was five. It was just about all I wanted to talk about so naturally finding myself 40 miles from it by accident was strange.
I rarely had any reception on this trip, but this time I got a message through to ask my spouse if it was wise for me to go there, and the answer was to go. So, I found the balls, drove in, and waited in the car trying not to cry because of all the memories of understanding the differences in our cultures just rolled over me.
The battle of the LBH represents to me the battle of understanding different ways and the will to crush others for their different ways, the concept of freedom and how hard it is to us all to accept.
I listened the tour guide for a while trying to get the grips of myself, and to understand that he explains it all differently just for the cultural differences, but after a while I just choose to hop into Peter and get the sarcasm flowing again. So here is the worst of all the pictures taken ever. The blondie from Europe on a tomb of a destroyer of ways of life, and a Bimmer, giving us Europeans two points in this picture as the accepting and nice.
I thought the no stepping on the grave was an extra nice touch.
As a place it's unreal. You can drive down this beautiful road, see wild horses running around, and feel the ancient ways of life around you, and I for one felt tiny.
Peter wanted to show horse power horse power, I had to spend serious time finding out the right buttons to shut him up. That ended up well but no extra horses were added after this shot to Peter or my fridge.
If any of you ever have a chance, just go. It is beautiful and a place that makes one think life and love, generations before us, and the lessons in life we have yet to master.
Same caption as above
To these I did not step on.
America is weird. You expect a lot of different things, but like this flower beside a road that was build to go around the graves, it too seemed to be out of place like I was.
Bravely I took a picture of the native grave memorial, but that I felt was too personal to share with you. Then Lups was on her last leg of the way back home. Well, so I thought.
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