I love being in a car. Road trips have always been high on my list of things to enjoy. This, I must assume, comes from spending all my childhood Christmas vacations in San Diego.
My parents would pack the car the night before we left - back in the day when we didn't think anything of turning the entire back end of a car into a giant pile of blankets and pillows - so when 3:30 a.m. rolled around they could shepard the three of us bleary eyed and toasty in our pjs through the snow directly into the car. We would spend all day traveling straight through (16 hours). Always stocked with mad libs, those great children's activities pads with the "clear marker" to reveal all sorts of fun things, etc. I don't think it too much to hop into a car for a trip (at least when I have some small amount of money).
Fortunately, I also enjoy driving on road trips and our trips of late (in the lovely prius, AKA Robot, owned by Frances) always allows me some quality drive time. I was in awe of the drive to Montana. I haven't made it since I was 15 or so, and, since I was being distracted by games and books and gameboys, I don't think I paid too much mind to the scenery.
Idaho is beautiful and it only gets better as you get closer to Montana. The trees at this time of year are literally breathtaking. And the sun was out. Everything was lit through an unexpected filter of golden leaves. I could not help thinking of Miss Flora Poste and her "golden orb". We also passed many a "woodshed" but I managed to refrain from screaming, "I saw something nasty in the woodshed!" everytime. Instead we have named them "dead barns", because I'm pretty sure most scary movies have old barns with dead people in them. You're welcome, Frances (let me know the next time you would like me to ruin a picturesque scene for you).
We passed through very small towns (and I'm from a town of 2,000 people so it has to be REALLY small for me to dub it such). My favourite had 260 people with a church as you entered, bars in the middle and a church as you exited. Wonder how many people really attend those churches. We also passed a great sign for "Special Effects Taxidermy", but that's a story for another time.
We ended the drive by getting slightly lost in Missoula because unfortunately we weren't finding much reason to their street names, unlike where I live where the streets are the names of presidents and they are in alphabetical order. By the time I found Idaho (we were looking for Montana) it had changed to some random street name, which I don't recall. BUT I would like to place the blame for our lostness on the CITY as the intersection where we should have turned did NOT even HAVE a sign post. So, being lost was a perfectly reasonable response to this lack of clearly marked streets.
We did manage to end in the brewery parking lot... for an alumni event. And we all know what the rule for events is, right? It's not an event until someone flashes their panties. Well, Montana is one hell of a lucky state because Debi, Frances and I all changed our clothes in/out of the Robot in the brewery parking lot, because that's how we roll.