Outside of Lusk, Wyoming on our way to South Dakota we hit a big storm cell. Swirling clouds and rain falling so fast and thick that we couldn't see through it. Upon my insistance we turn around and head towards the last little town we passed to see if we can wait out the weather. As we drive back out of the rain, a group of horses ahead on our right suddenly take fright and stampede away. "Where are they going?" Out of the hail, we found out. Immediately after asking the question it begins to fall, golf-ball sized right onto the windshield.
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