Rosebud & Pine Ridge
Â*Â*Â*Â*Â*Â* When I was on the road for nearly a year back in '81 I stopped at a roadside picnic area at the western edge of the Rosebud res on US 18 in S. Dakota.Â* I ran into several "characters" there.Â* First group was about 4 or 5 natives sitting in a car, drinking beer, and just watching me while I made a hatful of fire and cooked supper.Â* I motioned them to come over and shared the little I had.Â* They offered what they had and we mellowed out and talked.
Â*Â*Â*Â*Â*Â* I was a bit on edge, being whitey and a stranger to boot.Â* One of must've noticed 'cause he told me not to worry, "we don't bother blacks, hippies, or bikers."Â* Tourists, though, were another story!Â* They also told me to watch out for the "crazy Injuns" on the Pine Ridge res.
Â*Â*Â*Â*Â*Â* We finished our little party and they left.Â* About a half hour later I heard the unmistakable "ring-ding-ding" of a small 2 stroke coming from the hills to the south.Â* Some squirrel rode into the rest area on a dirt bike.Â* He had nothing with him except what he had on.Â* Ain't sure if his story was true, but he told me he'd broken jail in New Mexico (I think), and was headin' to Canada.
Â*Â*Â*Â*Â*Â* I gave him a long sleeved shirt, or maybe it was a light jacket, I ain't sure anymore.Â* It was getting down into the 50s at night, and this boy had nothing but a tank top.Â* When some headlights showed on the highway, he fired the popper up and rode into the scrub on the north side of the road.Â* I couldn't see him, but I could hear that 2 stroke for quite a spell.
Â*Â*Â*Â*Â*Â* The car turned out to be some reservation law, and hinted strongly it'd be in my best interest to move on down the highway.Â* Being an easy-going feller, I agreed.
Â*Â*Â*Â*Â*Â* Next stop was the Pine Ridge res.Â* The ol' boys there wondered how I'd fared with those crazy Injuns on the Rosebud!
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