I took my spirit filled self downtown. It was time to meet the locals, see what this town was all about. Thats when I met 'Bear'. I rolled the car into a parking spot on main street. It wasnt driving anywhere for awhile. Bear had a funny grin on his face and I looked underneath the car to confirm what I thought had happened. I was lucky. It was only the driveshaft attaching bolts that had sheared off. There was enough of a stub left on the bolt I thought it might be possible to turn them out with a pair of vice grips but I wasnt in a rush. I needed to find work to pay my way out of town and back home so I figured why hurry?

Bear kind of laughed with me, I laughed with him. He said that was one hell of a burn-out and I agreed, then he asked me what I was going to do now and I said I thought I better get the car moved somewhere off the street. He had a big truck and we tied a tow rope to it and then he towed me around the block, next to one of the motels. He had to get home so I told him thanks and then sat down to figure out what I needed to do.

There was a large sand lot next to the street where the car was parked and I thought it would be better if I could move the car off the street and into the lot. I started pushing and steering and it was moving, but slowly.

Three people came up the block and they could see I needed some help so they came over and started helping me push. Together we got the car where I wanted it to be. After helping me push they introduced themselves.They lived on the reservation near town and had come into town to see friends, get a beer. They were Lakota Sioux.

I had often thought about the reservations and the people who lived there. It seemed they got such a rotten deal to me. As I had been driving northeast I thought to myself that I would like to go as far as Sioux Falls. I wanted to experience the natives' culture. It was so different from our European culture. I thought it had more meaning to it, more depth, more appreciation of life and earth. I was disappointed when I realized I didnt have enough gas to make it that far and had instead turned north. What I didnt know at the time was that, by changing direction north,I was headed straight towards Rosebud Indian Reservation.

I had seen the signs on the highway directing tourists towards Wounded Knee, South Dakota. I didnt know my history that well but I knew an awful massacre had taken place there. As I traveled on I felt compassion for those who suffered so greatly in this terrible event, the aftermath still not forgotten. I knew I was getting closer to sacred grounds as I kept moving north.

Wounded Knee Massacre - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

I nicknamed the three who helped to push my car "my three little Indians". I didnt mean that disrespectfully. It was a way of feeling closer to them somehow, like adopting them in some way. They seemed misplaced, made to live in a way they didnt choose, forced to accept a style of life they didnt want, and if they were a little bitter about it, who wouldnt be? But they werent bitter. They were proud and it showed. I felt sad that things were such a mess for them. Living on subsidies, thier way of life taken from them, replaced with dependence on a sometimes unmerciful landlord. They made a point of making me see that of all people who had seen me pushing my car, it was them who came to help. I had to agree with them. It was very kind of them to help me and silently I wondered how I was going to help them in return. They wandered away into town and I hoped it wouldnt be the last time I saw them.