It was dark when we crossed the state line into North Dakota. At least, that's how I remember it: out of Montana and into the night. The road seemed to narrow and the landscape widened and our headlights were wholly inadequate to show us what lied ahead.
We kept driving without any idea whether or not we'd stop. I suggested an overnight haul straight through the state. But, my eyes grew heavy and orange barrels and road construction made the narrow road feel smaller, scarier, something almost impossible. We stopped at a gas station to study the map because the dashboard light was too dim to illuminate a useful route. We were still on the 2, that much we knew for certain. We did not deviate. The plan was to continue on. It was a straight shot in the dark, but with pesky orange cones peppering the way. I thought we could get through it. I thought we could make it all the way to Minnesota and skip a night in the wide, blank state between destinations that I cared about.
Ultimately, it was my bladder and my terrible night vision that made us stop. We'd gone to the sun and came back down and then spent the day driving further and further away from the glory. When we stopped at a motel off the only exit for miles, we were about as far away from anything majestic as two girls could get.
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