I've got cabin fever and can't wait for spring. Not much to do but look at the computer. While browsing old newspapers I found this. Not sure if anyone has seen this or not.
Bismarck Daily Tribune
June 5, 1915
A Rhythmical Tale of a Noted Trail
You may have heard, but not in rhyme, How Parmley made his trip on time.
They boasted down at Aberdeen the trip could not be done, but Studebaker had a man who said it could be done. The Yellowstone Trail is soft with rain, the Yellowstone Trail is new, but Nissen swore by the shirt he wore he'd put the big car through. They boasted down at Aberdeen that South Dakota Rain would keep a load of the soft spring road till shone the sun again.
Three hundred fifty miles from Lemmon east until across the state, across the line, you come to Ortonville. Three hundred fifty miles it is but Nissen called it fun. His mind was set that he could get the record for the run. His faith was founded on the fact he knew full well the maker had made the car live up so far to the name of Studebaker.
With M.B. Payne to drive the car and Matt Kerr as mechanic, he'd no fear but that he'd soon put all rivals in a panic. In sixteen hours they promised him a little or more, they'd drive the car across the state as never was done before. J. M. Parmley president of the Yellowstone Trail and J. H. McKeever, editor, were asked that they'd not fail to ride with Payne and Kerr that day. They promised to do so; despite a perfect sea of mud, they kept their promise true.
At four a.m. the start was made, from Lemmon forth they flash. In less than half an hour through the mud to Thunderhawk they dash. But what was mud to Thunderhawk was nothing to compared with what b'gosh toward McIntosh they found they had to dare they go through mud and slippery slides ahead of schedule still, for with their chains they keep their gains, and the car "eats up" each hill.
McLaughlin unto Mobridge seemed just one long road of grief, through flats of mud that hub-deep stood it was without relief. But driver Payne held tight the wheel, and likewise held his speed, he kept ahead of the rate he'd said would get them through to feed that night at Ortonville at eight across the muddy plains. But he had not thought of the havoc wrought by frequent snapping chains.
The car stood up like they knew it would, with quality higher than cost and each delay along the way was caused by chains they lost. From Ipswich on the roads were good for a stretch of several miles. The Studebaker took the gas and the passengers wore smiles; as they tore along at a lively clip, more than fifty miles an hour, the one refrain from driver Payne was, "This old boat has power."
The town turned out to welcome them when they came to Aberdeen, and Parmley praised about Nissen's nerve and praised his stout machine. Whitmore now took the place of Kerr, and they added F. C. Preston. From Aberdeen the staunch machine soon left to keep its quest on. The afternoon was like the morn, some stretches bad, some good. Through Groton, Andover and Bristol, they made what speed they could. Through Ortley Summit and Milbank, the car kept on it's course with water sometimes on the road with depth to swamp a horse. The carburetor once they drained, the water so high rose, but when the water is so high on low the car still goes.
At eight-fifteen to Ortonville the happy pilgrims came. Despite the mud they had made good and showed the car was game. For Studebaker men make sure the car they build is stout to stand the tests that village pests init will put it out. So South Dakota sing with praise how Studebaker shone that muddy day along the way they call the Yellowstone.