In 2005, Kenny and I spent some time visiting Mt. Rushmore. It was something I’d always wanted to see. We did very little planning for the trip. With little more than a few scribbles on paper, we threw our clothes in our bags and set off. At that time in my life, I was much more apt to say “Yeah, let’s go!” at the drop of a hat. These days it seems like I’m a little slower on the draw.
While in the neighborhood, we decided to swing over to Yellowstone National Park. It seemed like a good thing to do since we didn’t know if we’d ever pass that way again. And as it turns out, we haven’t been back since. Maybe it was a smart decision after all?
Kenny’s black Speed Triple was brandy-new then. If memory serves, it had just crested it’s break-in mileage right before we set off. My old ’98 6R was just happy to be along for the ride.