I put the spare cans of Pennzoil in her car, along with my backpack. She left and said she’d meet me at the main gate. I was in luck; Donny Thunderbird was in the shop, which gave me the chance to tell him goodbye. He helped me push the bike outside the shop. He said be sure and write, and I told him he could count on it. “When you get your Stone Boy legend all written out, I’d like to have a copy of it,” he said. “Of course,” I said. Real proud. I told him thanks for everything, and then the two of us exchanged the Sioux embrace. Barb and I spent just a few minutes in one of the souvenir shops before we left. I bought a package of postcards, so I’d have some pictures of the reservation. Barb bought a copy of Black Elk Speaks. “I’ll read this and then maybe I’ll have some idea what this famous prophet was all about.” Then we went on out to the main parking lot. It was crowded with people and vehicles, just the way it was when I first saw it. I was about ready to climb on when Barb said, “This bike isn’t even licensed, is it?”
