Every mile has been a battle.

274. “The Great White North. Really great.”

The big snowstorms of last night completely crippled southern Manitoba and Saskatchewan. We left Winnipeg this morning with bluebird conditions, only to drive about 20 miles and right smack dab into yet another snowstorm with whiteout conditions.

I swear to ya: I’m about ready to throw the towel in on thie Great White North shit. Fuck it. Just catch some little highway south in the North Dakota or wherever and then hook up with I-94 or something. The highway here is just plain dangerous, and shit, it’s like no one cares. Every mile is a battle, having to watch for slick spots and pavement and watching for wind gust zones and….

I’m worn out. After some 400 miles of white-knucklin’, my neck is jacked and I’m on edge real bad.

275. “Gary wore a look of concern pretty much all day.”

And shit, I like to consider myself a bit of a road warrior, but, don’t find myself jiving with this route too much. 5 degrees in the middle of November is just, well, kinda cold. It got down to 1 degree today, somewhere outside of Regina, Saskatchewan. 1 degree. Cold as a mother-in-law’s love.

We made it to Regina, checked into the Comfort Inn and began the process of de-thawing and getting back to some sort of regular heartbeat. Phew, another harrowing day. Big S is ice-crusted, but ready for more and more. What a trooper.

276. “Mom, Gary and Big S waited patiently…”
277. “…while I took pics of road signs.”
278. “The finest buffalo logo I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
279. “Lots going on out here.”