In Minnesota we saw the mighty Mississippi at flood stage, raging through an overwhelmed dam. We drove north to find a place to camp. As is our custom, we looked for a gas station near the campgrounds to find water, firewood and whatever else we decide we need (usually donuts). The BP on the map near the campgrounds did not exist, so we drove up the road to another station. We were in the parking lot shooting and a guy dressed in full racing leathers rolls up on a very, very old Harley. Jake asks to take his portrait and we talk to him for a minute and find out that there is flat track racing just across the street. We go over and watch plenty of racing. The guys are flying around at 100mph+ and it is very loud and very dusty. We saw a kid fly off his motorcycle and lay motionless facedown until he was taken away in an ambulance. The races paused while this happened but they got right back to it afterwards. The owner of the racetrack let us camp there so we put up our tents out back underneath a patch of trees and were relentless pummeled by mosquitos, as is apparently also our custom.