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In 1985 I drove from NJ to California with two cars full of friends, with a long stop at Yellowstone. We camped legitimately, but torrential rain gave us the great idea to all cram into the larger car, find a parking lot near geysers, and watch the intermittent burbling. And smoke joints and listen to the Grateful Dead. Anyone walking or driving by would surely have heard the music and seen the car absurdly full of smoke. Nobody cared though. Another era, or were we just lucky?

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this was such a lovely story. i feel like the expansiveness of nature and feeling free inside of it really does do something profound to someone.

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