For most of us, there are places we are born into and there are places we dream to visit. Wyoming was always for me a strange and wonderful place I knew only from photographs in great big coffee table books. As a younger man, year after year, my wife and I would drive across country to put our boots into the Wyoming soil. Riding the black hills to fill our nostrils with sulfur became something of a yearly tradition; so much so that even now the plains and mountains of Wyoming are forever tied in my memory to that period in my life, and I suspect they always will be.
This video brings back such vivid moments of nostalgia that even now, in the midst of an especially bleak Chicago winter, I feel that I can smell the buffalo, the sulfur, and the grasses upon a hot prairie wind blowing in from the West. I can't wait to get back.