
A detour over Wyoming’s Chief Joseph Scenic Byway leads to Buffalo Bill’s museum in Cody — and an unexpected Glasgow connection involving a stolen Ghost Shirt and a Lakota warrior once jailed in Barlinnie.

A few idle days in Buffalo drinking in a bar with actual bullet holes in the walls — before the road leads to the Little Bighorn battlefield, the Greasy Grass itself.

5,389 miles down in their eighth country, the blue dot marks Buffalo, Wyoming — a route map of exactly how far there still is to go before Anchorage.

A night at a Sturgis-area motel next to an actual outlaw biker gang, then a freezing, gale-battered ride out of Deadwood that ends with Clif shaking uncontrollably in a cheap motel room.

Gale-force cross winds hammer them across the open plains of Wyoming for eight straight hours — then Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse, and a hard look at the land both monuments stand on.

A detour through the Rockies and Navajo country to Rio Grande National Park — because life, and this trip, doesn’t travel in a straight line.

Big hail turns an interstate at 8,000 feet into slush, forcing an emergency stop in a layby — followed by an accidental wrong-way detour up the off-ramp that Susan wisely bails out of on foot.

In Fort Worth’s old stockyards, cowboys herded sheep to slaughter using a tobacco-addicted goat trained to lead the flock — they called him Judas.