A Tale of Two Cities: Valley City to Watford City on a sunny Monday.

At Kenny's Cafe in Valley City, I asked the gray, portly man in the booth across from me the best place in town for an oil change. "Ooh, take it to Wade's Service Station. He's good, he'll treat you right." He gave me directions in the Midwestern way: "Go up to the light, through the detour, past the bank, and he's on the left. Tell him Tom from the VFW sent you." I followed the directions to a tee and told Wade, an older, handsome man who seemed made out of squares, that Tom sent me.
"Great!" he said. "I'll get it up right away and check everything out."
I set out with my laptop, book, purse and laundry shoved into my laundry bag, to the laundromat. "That's an awful long walk," Wade said. "I can drive you."
"No, no, I need the exercise after that breakfast at Kenny's Cafe."

Halfway there, a white and red truck pulled up behind me and honked. It was Tom From The VFW. "Jump in! I went to Wade's to make sure you found it, and he said you were walking to the laundry! I can take you!"
It was Midwest hospitality at its finest.

As soon as I shut the door he informed me, "You ain't gotta worry. I'm not gonna take you somewhere and abuse you or nothin'." And it wasn't until that moment that I realized hopping into a truck with a stranger in North Dakota gave me no pause at all, it seemed perfectly natural.
"That thought really hadn't crossed my mind," I assured him. It was the truth.
He dropped me at the Maytag Laundry and said, "Wade'll pick you up when he's done. You take care now and be safe!"
And with that, he was gone.

I plugged in my laptop and wrote while my clothes were in the spin cycle. I went the bathroom and when I came out, I was face to face with Wade. "I'm all done, I came to getcha!"
"Oh! Well, let me unplug real quick."
"Man, you got all the first-class stuff, don'tcha?"
"Yeah, and I live in a Civic!"

I climbed in his big red truck, almost identical to Tom's. "I was gonna bring your car to you and have you drive me back, but I don't think two people could fit in your car!" he said.
"You're absolutely right!"
We drove back to the service station as he explained a little about North Dakota transportation. "You drive that little car, that gets good mileage. But we drive these big land-pushers. They're not efficient, but we gotta get around in the snow."

He was a kind man with kind, piercing blue eyes and square shoulders. Square, white teeth and a square, gray haircut. While he was drawing up the reciept, I read an article on the wall from 1980, that featured a picture of Wade with shoulder-length hair. "I looked like that up until a week ago, except grayer! Just got it cut! Now, I put a new air filter in there..."

Minutes later, I was back on the road. "You be safe out there!" he waved to me as I pulled away.
I gunned it for Theodore Roosevelt National Park, hoping to make it there before nightfall and camp in the park. I didn't make it, because I read the map wrong and figured the only entrance to the park was 50 miles south of where it actually was. I stopped instead in Watford City, in western North Dakota, and was not sad that I did.

Many cities in west North Dakota offer camping at the city park, even the very small towns. Watford City was no exception. Knowing I was going to be hunkered down for the night, I bought three cans of Milwaukee's Beast and a bag of ice -- fun times! Since Watford City is the county seat of Lincoln County, the city park was adjacent to the county fairgrounds. People were jogging and biking through the large grounds. Three campers already sat on the gravel and two guys, one older and one younger, were cooking pasta on a single-burner stove just like mine. We nodded and smiled as I walked to the sign-in sheet.

As I was filling out the envelope, a friendly black dog with brown eyes came running up to me, tail wagging. "Well, hi there, sweetie!" I said as he nestled my knees.
His owner was a tall, gray-haired man with a mustache and a kind smile. "He's overly friendly!" he called.
"I love him! What's his name?"
"Buddy. Pretty common, I know, but that's his name."
"Well, my dog's name is Butch, so don't feel bad!"

As we were talking, Buddy squatted on the manicured grass. "Oh, no!" his owner said. "He usually goes over there in the tall grass where nobody goes!"
"Do you need a plastic bag? I have one, I'll be right back."
As I walked to the car, I marveled at how this gentleman and I were able to talk like old friends right off the bat. It just felt comfortable.
He had many interesting things to say and I tried to remember them all.

On North Dakota: "I wouldn't live anywhere else. I moved down to Colorado for a couple years and I hated it. Why? Integrity. People there don't have it. It's like this -- I ran a business for twenty years. Never had a contract. Didn't need one. 'Round here a man's word is that good. But not down there. People will screw you if they can. And also, here I never lock my doors, never lock my truck. Not there. Another thing -- 'round here neighbors care about each other. If someone is sick, or there's a death in the family, we pull together. But in Colorado? Forget about it. I lived there for two years. You know when the first time my neighbor came over to talk to me was? When I put a 'For Sale' sign in my yard! He wanted to know how much I wanted for it. I told him it was none of his damn business since he never bothered with me 'til then. That may sound mean on my part, but I'm used to friendlier types."
"You'd hate Maryland."
"Oh, I know that."

On out-of-towners: "There was a girl stayin' 'round here for the summer, volunteering in the park. And I volunteer there too, corralling the buffalo on horseback. So one day the buffalo were by the road and the ranger called me up, asked me to get them off the road. So I jump on my horse and head down to the west entrance -- I had a key -- and then this girl was taking a break and laying on the grass and here I come on my horse and damn near run her over! She thought I was a buffalo! Well, anyway, we got to talkin' and I said you should come over for supper. Well, she was from Boston, see? And she didn't answer. And later she asked her boss, 'What's with these people? Are they trying to kidnap me?' And he told her, 'No, that's just how people are around here.' So the next Sunday, she sure came over for supper!"

On the economy: "People think we're all poor up here in North Dakota. Not so. I make more money here than I ever did in Colorado, and I can afford more with it! I drive a truck for the pipeline project. You wouldn't believe the money I pull in!"

"Well," he said. "I better be gettin' ol' Buddy here home."
"It was a pleasure meeting you," I said.
He extended a hand, shaking mine with a firm, steady grip. "I'm Norm."
"Jessica."
"You take care and be safe, young lady. The pleasure's mine."

As I walked back to pitch my tent, the two pasta guys called to me. "Maryland? Wow, you're mighty lost!"
"No, you're not lost if you don't know where you're going!"
They laughed.