Although born in Montana, I’m more less a Seattle native; having lived there since age 1½ (or what). But to-day, after forty-ish years of continuous Seattle residence, I packed all of my shit into an rented SUV, and lit out to store it (the shit, not the SUV) with the folks just east of the Continental Divide in, well, Southwestern Montana.
The normally-ten-hour trip was accomplished in 9½, as I’d been alerted that nasty weather was in my path, and figured best not to stop (save for once, in Kingston, Idaho, to gas up the vehicle, take a leak, and peel some oranges) until being waylaid by said weather. By the time it became apparent that said weather would not be an issue, I was already close enough to my destination that it made sense to just keep on drivin’.
Which, I’ve got to say: cruise control kicks ass! Had never before driven a vehicle with that feature, and damned if the motor-vehicle didn’t near to pilot its own self all the way there. Oh, and as somebody who’s sneered as derisively as any other hipster and/or environmentalist at the SUV culture, I can’t deny this: they rather are fun to drive.
So, it’s lazing in Montana for a few weeks; and then, let (as they say) the games begin!
So you are still alive. And not incarcerated. Bubba owes me $5.
I look forward to future tales of adventure and heroism in the world of organic farming!