The headwind seems like a trifling memory, a brief squabble, a lover's quarrel. Your hills, in retrospect, seem like minute rumblestrips on our State Route to love. Your locals, two of whom flicked off members of our group, must have just been having bad days. Your rodeo patrons, many inebriated, possessed their own rugged, rough 'n tumble charm.
Because, in the end, you were a beautiful, rewarding state, and we've all left you for Idaho. Even its name is less appealing than your Spanish-derived syllables. In fact, according to historians, it's totally made up. Just look!
Missoula was a delight, full of cultural events, coffeeshops, ethnic food, and even The Simpsons Movie. Even Superior, despite its tiny population, was welcoming and intriguing, throwing in some local flair with a durn tootin' real rodeo and a "Milk Can Dinner." And our rides the last few days have been picturesque (one local described them as "panoramic, causing a bit of head-scratching from my fellow riders...) and lenient w/ the hills. Yesterday featured a 2-hour swimming-hole lunch stop and some hysterical riding maneuvers (more on that later, if you're lucky), and today's ride featured a gradual 40-mile uphill and a gratifying 20-mile downhill into Idaho, along a beautiful (and I mean beautiful) bike path. I'll post pics soon...
But for now, here's a little teaser. I don't know who took it, or who's in it, or where it is, but I've got a few guesses...
1 comment:
I know that is not my daughter in this pic?
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