My Dad and his farmer friends were a colorful bunch back there in the 'olden days.' Suffice to say, there wasn't a lot of political correctness 'back in the day.'

These were the folks that had lived through the Great Depression and the World War II years. They were pretty much people of the dirt and proud of it.

So, on Sunday we decided to drive down to Sioux City and meet the kids and grandkids at the Southern Hills Mall. It was a little over an hour from Sioux Falls, and roughly the same distance for both kids and their families. A nice afternoon of visiting, a little mall shopping and get caught up on how everyone was doing.

It was rainy on the way down, but not all that bad. But... the way back was a different story. It came down in buckets. And buckets. And more buckets.

I suppose it may be a product of my now advanced age, but I'n not a big fan of driving in snow... or rain to the point where my wipers are flapping on the fastest they can go and visibility is still a, uh, challenge. Then those big 18 wheeler's come whizzing by (and no, not their fault, I'm driving considerably below any speed limit) and now the visibility is zero for a couple seconds.

Wow, that was mildly fun!

As I'm driving, I'm thinking back to those old days, those days on the farm when my Dad and my friend's Dad's would get together the day after a heavy rain. How did they describe it?

Well, let me see.... how can I put this... hmmm.

Well, let's just say it had to do with a cow, and a flat rock. If you grew up on a farm, you can probably fill in the blanks. If not, well, trust me, it rained really, really hard for a while on Sunday!

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