It’s safe to say few envision their summer road trips pivoting on the availability of porcelain thrones. And yet, as detailed in an Associated Press piece, North Dakota’s most visited historic sites are, at long last, ditching (well, technically upgrading) the humble pit toilet in favor of indoor plumbing. For fans of both local history and basic sanitation, this is the sort of progress that feels both overdue and somehow perfectly timed.

History Never Happens Where It’s Convenient

Anyone who’s spent time lurking in archives or poking around rural museums can confirm: the remnants of the past are rarely deposited with modern comfort in mind. According to the Associated Press, Chris Dorfschmidt, a manager with the State Historical Society of North Dakota, summed it up with a dry bit of wisdom: “history didn’t happen where it’s convenient.” The AP outlines just how far-flung these sites can be—a total of sixty scattered from nuclear launch facilities to plaques in empty fields—often as remote and unaccommodating as a waiting room at the DMV, with restroom amenities to match up until recently.

The AP reports that the childhood home of Lawrence Welk, the country’s well-coiffed bandleader and a man who, fittingly, grew up without a flush toilet, is the latest beneficiary of this upgrade. The change comes just ahead of a statue unveiling at the site—an event sure to attract “The Lawrence Welk Show” devotees who might be grateful that their nostalgia tour isn’t interrupted by a side trip to an outhouse.

A “Milestone” in Modern Comfort (Depending Who You Ask)

Described in the Associated Press story, replacing pit toilets with flush restrooms represents a milestone for the Historical Society, albeit a humble one. Dorfschmidt told the AP that, because many of these sites are “in the middle of nowhere,” providing a more pleasant visitor experience has become a priority. The most recent upgrades were completed at the Welk Homestead, with the last two facilities—Whitestone Hill (a somber site commemorating an 1863 attack against Native Americans) and Fort Buford—slated for completion by June 30.

The AP also notes that the Society has its eye on the Chateau de Mores for a future restroom facelift. Built in 1883 with 26 rooms, the chateau stands near Medora—a present-day tourist magnet in the Badlands where a young Teddy Roosevelt once roamed. Not every historic site will get the royal (flush) treatment, though: the article specifies that unstaffed, less-visited locations likely won’t see upgrades, in part due to the $150,000 price tag per restroom.

In a detail highlighted by the AP, the new restrooms at the Welk Homestead were given a color scheme to match the original house and farm buildings—right down to the interior colors. Rob Hanna, a Historic Sites Manager, told the AP, “We made it to fit into the site and harmonize with the site and just be a pleasant part of the experience.” It’s hard not to appreciate a restroom that’s both thematically and chromatically integrated.

Pit Toilets and Progress

Bringing modern plumbing to these sites brings out a certain poetry in the relentless march of progress. According to the AP, a number of the state’s historic places—those fewer folks visit, or that lack staff—will keep their vintage outhouses for the foreseeable future. There’s perhaps some charm for the historically minded in maintaining such “authenticity,” but the targeted upgrades make sense for busy sites where actual humans are known to congregate.

For a state whose historic appeal sometimes hinges on lonely open roads and distant memories, the move feels both practical and a little poignant. Pit toilets are, after all, a memorable—if rarely nostalgic—piece of the historic site experience. The upgrades are a housekeeping measure, true, but there’s no denying they’ll shift what it means to visit these storied outposts in the years ahead.

Is there such a thing as too much authenticity when it comes to historical tourism, or does indoor plumbing simply mark the bare minimum for 21st-century pilgrimages? The visitors, presumably, will be the judge—and as Dorfschmidt so aptly put it, history may prefer inconvenient locations, but there’s no rule about repeating its plumbing mistakes.