Epistle

7/29/07

Dear Montana,

I’ve only just met you and I think I’m in love. We first saw each other this morning, somewhere between West Yellowstone and Bozeman, and it was (forgive the cliché) love at first sight. You were cool and curvaceous, laying out lazily all along the Gallatin. We got along immediately, and all my friends liked you too—at first lunch everybody was talking about your looks and your style. I couldn’t believe my luck.

You’ll be in my dreams tonight. I can’t wait to see you again tomorrow.

xoxo,

Sammy-poo



















7/30/07

Dear Montana,

The day started with coffee in Bozeman: a great beginning, or so I thought. The Rockford Café was a great little place, and with a belly full of French roast and our friend Marie tagging along, I knew that the next 100 miles with you were going to be unforgettable.

But then you totally dried up on me.

You blew a bunch of hot air in my face, something about the weather changing in our relationship, and then left me hanging. I felt like the rest of the day was interminably long—I had to struggle uphill against you and then when that conflict was resolved the decision was totally dissatisfying. Even when the fight leveled off I felt like it was an uphill battle, the same thing again and again.

I don’t know what to say, Montana. I had such high hopes yesterday, and things feel… different. When you’re not spitting wind and heat at me you’re cold and distant, desolate and teary.

I’m worried.

Sincerely,

Sam
















7/31/07

Montana:

This is the last straw. I thought today was going to be short and sweet. I knew that there was a tough pass to navigate, but I thought we’d make it through unscathed. Little did I know that with you, even the easiest days can turn out deadly. We started the morning in a fight—that hot air from yesterday was even worse than before, and I was looking at a long uphill battle all day. You were beautiful as always, but inconsolable. I had to gaze upon you from afar. The distance was unbearable.

Even after the rough section I foresaw had passed, the conflict wasn’t over. It only got worse, because the end was in sight but I knew we had a long ways to go before we would rest.

I also heard a lot of nasty rumors—that a lot of cowboys have… ridden… you before, and that you’d even sheltered the Unabomber at one point. Now Montana, I’ve seen states with some pretty crazy exes, but that guy takes the cake. I don't want to think about what could happen if he gets out of jail.

Don’t get me wrong; you’re hot. Really, really hot. On fire. Literally. And you’re cool. Sometimes downright chilly. But I just don’t see this working out, for now or in the long-term. Besides, I was just out to get some tail. Wind, I mean.

All best in your future endeavors,

Samuel Cummings Carmichael

PS—I’ve been cheating on you with Wyoming.