Back when the world was free and Mom believed she could predict the future, she aimed the farthest point in our trip at Devil’s Tower in Wyoming. More than anything else, she was visiting for the punchline.

When we dismounted, Mom hid behind the beak of her hat so that no one else in the car kennel could pick her out in a line-up.

"Sheesh, there's absolutely nothing here," Mom narrated. "There have got to be trails around here somewhere."