Hopefully there is enough going on here, between the camera-ready hair, Van Halen (rock on) t-shirt, daisy dukes, and sixteen tall miles of open road ending in want-some Frye harness boots, that you won't wonder why her most northward region appears to be in a cloud and yet, at the southern terminus, we can see the very particles of the dust of Sturgis. If this does present an insurmountable problem for you, I am going to prescribe two robust cocktails and a colonoscopy. Then we can talk.
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