Pounce & Bounce

Boise was very much a hit and run visit. We had so little time that we considered leaving the van running during the show. Ahead of us lay the capstone of our driving marathon: Boise to Sioux Falls. We had 36 hours to cover 1,250 miles. About a quarter of those miles are scenic. To describe the remainder as ‘humdrum’ would be extremely generous.

Wyoming and South Dakota as a whole are not bad - there are plenty of beautiful places (Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Custer, etc.). But when you’re traveling straight through they are bleak, infinite expanses of nothingness. It’s so dull that animals try to kill themselves.

Tractor beam

We’re used to splattering insects by the thousands on long drives -- the van is too big to miss. If a bug flies within five feet of the van, the gravitational pull of the windshield makes escape impossible. Anything that breaks that threshold is sucked in and immediately killed.

Bugs can’t really help it - they’re small and have little control over their flightpath. Birds, however, can help it. They’re big and smart enough to avoid vehicles -- yet they tried to hit the van. That’s why we’re in no way joking when we say things are so grim in the ‘great’ plains that even animals want to murder themselves.

We often joked that the creatures hitting our windshield were growing progressively larger. It began with gnats, flies, and beetles. We figured regular old birds were the logical conclusion but we were spectacularly wrong. What happened next left us gobsmacked.

Bird is the word

On the unending plains, going 120 mph feels like going 30. Somewhere on the Eastern end of Wyoming, we were zooming along … while still maintaining the speed limit, of course. We’ve never broken a law in our lives.

Anyway, we were ‘doing the speed limit’ when out of nowhere a brown blur exploded into our left periphery. The moment it appeared was the moment a concussive blow echoed off the hood. It was deafening - like a cannonball breaching the hull of a battleship. Before fully processing the noise, a limp object rolled up the windshield and launched 20 feet into the air. Stunned, I could only sputter out “What the FUCK was that?!”.

With “JESUS CHRIST’s! and other exclamations now ringing throughout the van, Dan hung up a business call to join the ruckus. We were both hooting and hollering, mystified by what just happened. In disbelief, Dan ventured “Was that a piece of rubber?” The dusk had certainly obscured our vision, but it was not rubber. There were no other vehicles on the road, no tires to blow.

A hundred uncertainties flickered through my mind but one thing was certain - whatever we hit was a living thing (WAS is the key word). With adrenaline now coursing through my veins, everything slowed down and I replayed what happened in my mind.

The object that entered my vision was sleek -- full of purpose and control. The object that exited my vision was a mangled bundle of ribbons. I realized what it was. It was not rubber, or any inanimate object for that matter. It was a hawk, and it got absolutely SMOKED.

Here are some pictures taken minutes after the event.

Now contrast those with pictures taken in the daylight.

That bird got rocked SO HARD. I’m lucky it didn’t hit the windshield - it would’ve gone straight through my face.

Crash into me

We want everyone to take a good, hard look at that dent and imagine how big that fuckin bird had to be. It crumpled metal and stripped paint. If it were a Robin or Sparrow, we’d be talking a ding in the hood, maybe. This monster made a crater. It was basically a feathery pterodactyl.

The physics are mind blowing. Seriously - think about the tremendous kinetic forces required to inflict that sort of damage. That beast must’ve weighed 20 pounds.

Self-destruction

The only logical conclusion is the hawk wanted to kill itself. If it wanted to avoid the road, it could’ve. The roads in Wyoming are only 24 feet wide, and are surrounded by millions of feet of free space.

Put another way, 99.999976% of the land didn’t have roads. Avoiding the 0.000024% would’ve been the easiest thing in the world for a bird, considering its domain is INFINITE. In the most literal sense, the sky's the limit.

It’s like being told “You can go absolutely anywhere in the state of New York except for this one clearly marked 2’ x 4’ space in Central Park. If you go there, you’ll explode”. Then the first thing you do is walk to that precise location.

The hawk was either suicidal, or profoundly stupid. How the fuck does an animal that can fly get killed on the ground? It could soar anywhere, but this dipshit decided to fly 4 feet above the earth. Some may say “Maybe it saw a mouse it wanted to eat”. OK, well then maybe this ‘smart’ animal should’ve waited a goddamn second. There’s no other cars on the road and nowhere for prey to escape.

Kismet

I’m not religious, but hitting the hawk made me believe in fate. The hawk and I were star crossed at birth. From the moment its little beak broke through egg, it was written that that beak would break through engine block. Every single action we ever took was moving us inexorably toward our destiny.

If I had brushed my teeth for 10 more seconds on that fateful day, the hawk would be alive. If it had flown left instead of right, the hawk would be alive. If I hadn’t made a pit stop that lasted exactly three minutes and eighteen seconds, the hawk would be alive. But each of those actions happened. They were predestined.

Our meeting had to be preordained, because mathematically it was impossible.

• There are 100 million square feet of paved road, and 105 trillion square feet of land in the US. The probability a bird is flying over any road is one in a million.
• Birds can fly thousands of feet high. The probability they’re flying in the lowest ten feet is one in a thousand.
• The chance a car is on the road at any given time is one in a thousand.
• Therefore, the probability that a bird is flying over a road, in the bottom ten feet, while a car is driving in that space is 1 in 1,000,000,000,000.

Statistically speaking, you’re more likely to be struck by lightning while a shark is eating you than hit a hawk on the open road.

The town

Maybe we should finally talk about Sioux Falls, huh?! It was an unpretentious city with a relaxed atmosphere. Small cities take big pride in things they do well, and in Sioux Falls their pride was Pride. They’re one of the most gay-friendly cities in the country.

The comedy show fell on the first Friday of pride month and the town was ready to rock. The entire downtown was bumpin and half the people at the comedy show were heading to a drag party right after standup finished.

The peeps

The comics we met there awesome. They were friendly, welcoming, and most importantly - hilarious. It was awesome to watch them before going on. Another cool aspect about the comedy scene in South Dakota was how well connected they are with comedians throughout the Midwest.

We really liked how tight and interconected the Midwest was. North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, and Iowa in particular had a lot of overlap. It seemed like everyone knew everyone and had worked together or had at least heard of each other.

Showtime

We performed at a spot called Boss’ Comedy Club. If you’re ever in Sioux Falls you should definitely check it out - they run awesome shows. On the bill was the host, an opener, and four features (Dan and I included). The comics were great - we had a lot of fun watching them.

After the show we all went to a neat little bar to hang out. It was dimly lit and full of pinball machines. They’ve got pinball leagues in Sioux Falls and it’s taken very seriously. The combination of dim lighting, flashing arcade games, and metal blasting from the speakers made for a cool, unique experience we won’t soon forget.

We parted with our gracious hosts and checked off South Dakota. Next on tap was Fargo, North Dakota.