Long haul from St. Paul to South Dakota line, especially wearing rain gear all the way.  Don't buy coffee at the Dairy Queen.

I-90 in South Dakota is a string of attractions, some historical, some kitsch, all worth stopping.  I'm very familiar with this road and in the last 20+ years I've signed the guest books in most of what there is to see.  So it was a bit of a surprise when I saw something NEW right off the bat. 

Just past Sioux Falls if you're headed WESTbound (I gotta tell ya I am happy to see the WEST signs!), on the left is a Sculpture Park--that's what Wayne Porter calls it.  And he can call it whatever he wants since he's the creator of it all.  You will find the World's Largest Bull Head.  I don't doubt it--it got my attention at 65 mph--60 feet tall and 25 tons of bull.  I had to wander off the trail to see that but the other metal sculptures he has, the funky, let's-take-tractor-parts-and-weld-them-together are really wonderful.  So check back here and see the photos soon.  Wayne will give you a personal tour of the acres of grass punctuated by his philosophy (and it runs dangerously close to mine).  Guy had a dream for himself and there it is--right out there on the highway.  Who needs galleries anyway?

If you've never heard of the Corn Palace, your trip to South Dakota will change that.  On Main Street in Mitchell is the auditorium (sorta) building that has onion domes and the whole thing is covered in seed, cobs, dried stuff from (you knew this was coming) CORN.  I don't know why, but it is the only one in the world.  Across the street is the Land of Enchantment that looks like a castle and has 10,000 dolls in it.  Seno looked enchanted posing in front of it. 

I needed the guy walking into City Hall next door to the Palace.  I needed a welding referral.  Left rear fender broke loose again and 80 yards of red duct tape wouldn't hold it any longer.  Seno's not the only one ailing.  My left hand is so swollen that I can't get my rings off.  Don't remember that I mentioned my fall on the sidewalk in St. Paul, landed on my hand, bruised and scraped.  So we were a sad couple of adventurers that night in Mitchell.  The minute I paid the welder $10 and drove away without the fender rattling, my hand felt better.