June 26: Twin Falls = Twice The Fun!

‘Sup pups?

It was time to start heading home. We spent the better part of five days in and around Wyoming. It, finally, was “Idaho Time”!

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In Southeast Idaho, you see a lot of these signs:

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But Idaho is a land of many terrains. If you don’t like what you’re seeing, wait sixty miles.

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As we do almost daily, we ingested another sizable quantity of gasoline. I checked my pee-mail.

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The final two hours of our trip were dominated by dark skies.

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By the way, pups, today represented our final long day of travel. All subsequent travel days are in the three-hour range, plus/minus. No more five or six or seven hour days. And that suits me just fine.

We arrived in Twin Falls, Idaho. You probably already know about Twin Falls, courtesy of Evel Knievel. Remember him? Back in 1973, he attempted a jump across the Snake River. He didn’t make it. You can watch the video below for details – fast forward to about the 2:20 mark.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=llzIVDbvSAc

Dad had to go see the site where the mishap transpired. We were obligated to tag along.

The Snake River forms a giant canyon in the Twin Falls area. Look at the bridge that carries cars on US-93 across the river.

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As has been our tradition on this trip, a good smoting was in order.

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But the scenery is pretty interesting, don’t you think?

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We drove a half-dozen miles east, finding Shoshone Falls. Take a peek, pups.

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Looking to the west, we saw the area where Evel Knievel blew his parachute way, way too soon.

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I, too, am a fan of nature.

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Do you see the footprints right behind me? It was a bit muddy, following the great smoting from the sky moments earlier. Do I look like I am complaining? Absolutely not. I deal with situations – I just “deal”. Dad? Well that’s another story. For about six minutes, Dad acted like a six-year-old after thrusting his neon green shoes into a veritable mud pot. Only Mom could quell his dissatisfaction via a sensible recommendation to clean his filthy shoes in the moisture-laden grasses alongside the walkway.

Nobody cleaned my feet on the moisture-laden grasses surrounding the walkway.

Eventually, Mom and Dad wanted to leave. I objected.

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Mom wanted to leave, so that she could visit a Japanese Internment Camp. Have you heard about what happened during World War II, out west? Read this sign.

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I’ll give you the cliff notes version. After Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, people of Japanese descent, living in the Pacific Northwest, were required to relocate to a camp in Southern Idaho, where they were essentially put in prison for several years, just because of their race.

Lemme tell you, pups, this place is out in the middle of nowhere. It’s in a stark desert.

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The whole thing was a reminder of how we, as a nation, occasionally overreact. Not in the way that Dad overreacted when he got mud on his shoes, of course, but a different and more haunting type of overreaction.

Speaking of overreaction, it’s not hard to overreact to Dad’s diet over the past forty-three days. Tonight, he supped at a new Culver’s Restaurant in Twin Falls. Yes, the Wisconsin-based purveyor of calorietic excess is moving west. This, my pups, is the Pork Tenderloin sandwich with a Family-Sized Cheese Curd serving.

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Later, Dad added on an all-important one-scoop serving of chocolate custard, smothered in chocolate sauce. In an unrelated conversation, Dad mentioned to me that he was looking forward to starting a new walking regimen next week.

The day left me feeling exhausted.

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Less than a week to go, pups. We’re close to home. But tomorrow, we’ll feel like we’re viewing Craters on the Moon. Literally. More on that topic in my next update.

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