You know, it's not that I have anything against Roger Miller. I actually like his music. But the thing is, mile after mile, hour after hour, sometimes a song just pops into your head. And then won't pop back out again.
"Kansas city star, that's what I arrrrrre."
or
"Dang me, dang me, they oughta take a rope and hang me."
Earlier in the day I stopped at a rest area on I-90. The little guy was looking for a handout. The guy is a trucker who apparently stops and gives them crackers each time he's in the neighborhood.
Anyhow, I finally got to Grand Coulee, and now it's sweltering hot. So I got a motel room and then went down to the Visitor Center. How would you like to have to trust two of your fellow work monkeys to hand pump air to you with this contraption:
While you're about 80 feet under water wearing this:
No thanks. I'm getting claustrophobic just thinking about it.
Tomorrow: British Colombia.
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