We cross an ocean of grain in the mid-summer heat of one of the hottest years on record. In other words, it’s hot and there’s no place to hide. The road is a thick rubber band stretching from horizon to horizon and we’re in the company of other pilgrims on their way to Sturgis. Wyoming and Nebraska pass beneath our floorboards without incident, fields the color of straw set against a pale blue sky.
On the way to Sturgis
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