We had a wedding to attend in Norman, Oklahoma. My wife's niece was getting married. (Oh, and congratulations Bob and Stephanie!). All I knew about Norman, Oklahoma was, it's the home of the University of Oklahoma and through the years they had a pretty good football team. That was about it. By the way, apparently, it was not a good weekend to be a Sooner fan. The team got clobbered by...somebody.

So, we checked on flights. Ahem, to this wrinkled old bald Dutch boy, they were...pricey. And so it was to get the Pontiac checked out and hit the road.

Google told me the trip would be about, I don't know, 10 hours or so, maybe a little longer the way I drive. Now, if I were in my twenties or thirties I'd just hop in the car and zip on down. But now, at my current age, I don't zip like I used to, so it would be a couple of days down and a couple of days back.

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And so it was over to Yankton and down Highway 81. And more 81. And more 81. A great travelin' road and straight on down through Nebraska and into Kansas. A stopover in beautiful Salina, Kansas for the night. Then, up and at 'em continuing through the great state of Kansas.

And that's when I noticed something. Nebraska and Kansas? They look a whole lot like eastern South Dakota. A lot of corn and a lot more beans. And with very few exceptions, rural. I loved it. This was my kind of country!

Wichita came along and no, I didn't see a lineman (for you younger folks, ask your parents about Glen Campbell). What I did see was a toll road. I'm not what might be called super familiar with them. We didn't have a lot of toll roads growing up around Edgerton, Minnesota. Gravel roads, yes, but not toll.

So I stopped, a ticket popped out of a little booth, and off we went on our merry way. Right by the Oklahoma border, there was another little booth, this one with a friendly lady in it who asked for the ticket and $2.75. I gave it to her, she thanked me, I thanked her, and once again, off we went.

It seemed like we went just a mile or two into the Sooner state when I saw it.

An oil derrick. Just one, all alone, and pumping. Then a few miles later and two or three more. And then a few more still. Yes, sir, we had made it to Oklahoma.

I let my wife drive into the Oklahoma Metro. We both knew that would be a good idea. I drove through Moore, the town that Toby Keith calls home, and on into Norman.

The weekend was great, the wedding beautiful, the people friendly and nice. And then it was packing back up and heading back to what I call God's Country, home, and South Dakota.

Now, I could tell you all about the drive back, but this would be easier: Just read the above, in reverse order.

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