|"Cool, I guess, but not as cute as prairie dogs."|
There are probably no stranger bedfellows than bikers and prairie dogs, except perhaps soccer moms and saltwater crocodiles. In a cage fight to the death between all four species, my money, surprisingly, is on the prairie dogs, assuming the cage floor is loose soil. Prairie dog bites can spread the plague, and no foe could follow them into their underground lairs. But all bets are off if the bikers have access to a backhoe, or if the soccer moms have access to a Cuisinart.
Perhaps you're wondering how I acquired so much firsthand knowledge of South Dakota, and if you're not, you should be, because the amount I know is alarming. Well, the truth is, I went to South Dakota. So me and Shawn Colvin have been to the state, although she's from there, which makes me better than her.
|"Babe, if I had a backhoe I'd smash prairie dogs."|
In addition to beholding Mount Rushmore, we also saw Oregon Trail wagon ruts (definitely worth the 1.8 mile drive off the highway in Guernsey, Wyoming) and Register Cliff, where pioneers etched their names and the year of their passage into a cliff near the Laramie River (they probably should've been conserving calories, but whatever).
I recommend southwestern South Dakota. And so does Shawn Colvin. Great Places and Great Faces are, after all, why Sonny came home.