These bikers are embarrassing. Watching them trying to act cool is like spotting your newly single Uncle at a dance club. You just end up staring at your boots, praying for the moment to pass.
At Glacier National Park, mixed in with the hundreds of cars, are loads of bikes of all shapes, sizes and makes. But these 3 are defiantly standing out, what with their matching outfits, cool multicolor bandanas and over revving their V-twins, begging for attention. They are whipping around slower moving vehicles and shifting up and don and up and down as this park ONLY has a 25 mph speed limit, and they keep finding traffic to hamper their fast forward motion.
The guy in the back of the pack has a GIANT duffle bag hanging on the back of his rear seat. The bag has found its way sideways and is in clear danger of falling off entirely. The bag is also unzipped, I suppose in his haste this morning, leaving his small Tupperware container of what appears to be Granola ready to make an escape.
I’m right behind him, and every time I roll up on him to let him know what is going on, he sees me in his side view mirror and takes that as a sign to roll the throttle back so I can’t ever tell him what’s up.
All for the best, even with my hearty breakfast this morning, I still could use some granola and plan on making a NHL type glove save if I can will it out his bag before the 48 miles are up.
Acting all hardcore with a pink Tupperware container peeking out of his fancy smancy bag. In fact, all together these 3 are slightly less edgy than the Wiggles and maybe one spot above all The Backstreet Boys
Although, A.J. McLean did drink a lot AND do cocaine off a strippers chest.
Allegedly
So yeah
If I can get a picture posted, you, my faithful readers can determine the order.
They wouldn’t last too long on a Saturday Night at the Packers Roost in Hungry Horse Montana.
Not that I have any definite proof that this place is that raw inside, BUT, it was the only place that I have EVER worried about getting shivved while eating BREAKFAST.
I did get a funny look when I turned down a draft with my eggs, at 9:30 am.
My kinda place.
I enjoy seeking out and taking refuge in the undercurrent of people bring quality stuff to the table, and while most of the tourism is taking place in big fancy perfectly crafted “lodges”, with a 12 dollar omelet, and Made in China “I rode the going to the sun highway” t-shirts to purchase on the way out, I sit on a stool, in a well groomed, but structurally questionable bar listening to wild fables that may or may not have happened here last night.
They also have pretty much the best hash browns I have ever had.
BTW, if ya haven’t guessed, I’m in Montana.
I left this blog in Smithers, and from there I went to Jasper Alberta and besides riding down the stunning Icefields Parkway, AND having no trouble re-entering the State, (welcome home son is what the Customs official said to me, WIDE SMILES from yours truly), Alberta is a snooty, snooty little Province.
AND crowded.
Even the tourists seem snooty.
Nice scenery though, if you can afford seeing it, as the Alberta-ans were hell bent on taking all of my remaining Loonies, and I was THRILLED to make it into the States.
The only way Alberta could be any worse, is if they had extradition powers to come grab me and make me ride through there again.
Give me British Columbia every time.
So, after crossing the border, and staying overnight in Whitefish, I decided today would just be a lazy day making my way around the fun roads and scenery of Western Montana.
Now, I am trying desperately to find a way to break loose from the Sunday Sinners Peloton here, and find some open space for myself.
The only way I want to continue riding with the asshole in the back, is if I were poisoned and the only antidote was stuffed deep down in that Granola .
I find a small spot all my lonesome near a rapidly running creek and I sit in relative silence to soak it in and write.
I’m there for about 10 mins until a small RV rolls up, and about 3 couples complete with 7 or 8 garrulous scalawags dressed as small humans exit the rolling home as if it was some clown car, and all make their way into my world, absconding with my silence.
I guide Kai back onto the parkway, fire up the video camera on my homemade handle bar mount, and record some spectacular footage for the next hour or so.
On this beautiful Sunday morning, I’d so much rather be here on my bike thinking about God, then being in church thinking about my bike.
Exiting Glacier, I hit the first fuel pumps, get a thankful and see some lazylurkers under a pavilion eating ice cream cones, and since I never truly rewarding myself from saving a platoon of ducklings, Ice cream I shall have.
And elderly couple from Kalispell bends my ear for about 20 mins or so, talking about a whole array of things, and my cone was finished lazily but quickly.
I launch onto Rte 89 south, and find myself ripping along quite happily, even if the Mountain ranges are progressively getting smaller in my side mirrors, not to be seen again for some time I’m sure.
89 turns into Rte 2 East, and now it actually feels like I’m heading for home.
Speaking of heading East, I wonder how Avi’s doing.
Peace Grease and Beats
