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Bill, Stephanie, and Lurch. |
Lewiston/Lewistown. See the difference? Lewiston is in Idaho, where I spent a day doing laundry and getting my tire fixed. Lewistown is in Montana, where I camped last night. I met Bill and Stephanie there. Not a couple, they have kept bumping into each other in campgrounds and on the road as they have made their ways west and north. Bill's a retired middle-school teacher from Illinois, and Stephanie is from Germany, where she has worked in an after-school program and has a job at the museum. Poor woman had a broken bridge and was going to spend a day in Lewistown seeing a dentist.
We had a great evening. Bill actually had the temerity to leave the campground and purchase beer (soda for me), and Fritos!!! Such a grownup thing. They are going the opposite of my direction -- east to west -- so we exchanged views of what we would see and where to stay.
They had ridden 70-plus miles that day, and I had done, I think, 47. You can say, well, you know, I noticed more, my miles were higher quality, my riding style is more elegant. Yeah, you can say that. You can also say you're rich as Croesus -- and of course that doesn't work because everybody will say, "Who's Croesus?"
For yet another time today, my ride -- probably my life -- was saved by a little local bar. A lot of these little towns, where at the high school they play 6-man football and post their state championships at the stadium, have a bar/grill that's open all day. People come and go, or come and stay, and chat with the motherly barmaid and idly shoot the bull. I've had really good chef's salads, egg rolls, macaroni, and of course hamburgers (though one gave a gut-ache that made me want to cry).
If not for these places, though, where I can spend an hour off the bike, refueling, I would have far fewer miles (those high-quality, fully noticed miles) than I do.
Here's today's midday stop, in Grass Range, Montana:
Dare to go in! It's just people! |
A first-class field house in a town where everybody lives in a trailer. |
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