Driving for days.

In the version of the trip i had planned, i didn't imagine driving nonstop for hours and hours. I thought maybe i would make frequent stops and sort of explore my way towards montana. But driving straight turned out to be good. Dad and i took shifts ranging from four hours to six. When my radio refused to work, we sang songs together and to each other. We stopped at Gertie's brick oven restaurant in idaho, and dad got a couple interesting slices of all you can eat pizza, including one called Idaho bacon, which was topped with shredded potatoes. The waitress was puzzled by my blt sandwich minus the bacon, but she was nice and didn't laugh. The weirdest experience all day happened to be stopping at a full service gas station, where my driver's side door was opened and i was asked to exit the vehicle while they vacuumed and wiped off every window. They even checked the tire pressure. I stood shivering under the cloudy gray sky in my shorts and t-shirt. Driving, driving, and more driving finally brought us to rest for the night at the red lion colonial inn in helena.
Six thirty am and two snooze buttons later we were downstairs eating breakfast and off on the road again. We picked up dad's truck from the airport and headed off into middle of nowhere montana, otherwise known as white sulfur springs.
We arrived at roughly nine thirty am, and by eleven i had met most of the people on the ranch, been offered a cheeseburger (luckily, i was informed by dad to decline by saying "no thanks, i just ate") and drove thirty or so miles on an atv (called buggies in these parts) just looking for the rest of the crew. We passed the remains of an eighteen hundreds log cabin (not unlike our own, except for the missing roof) and barn, as well as an intact barn once owned by John Ringling of the Ringling brothers.
This ranch is so expansive, everything you can see in three directions is a part of it. Past the first set of mountains, all the way to the summit of the far white peaks. It's incredible really. And incredibly hard to find people when your radio isn't working.
By two or three, we were headed out on a cattle drive: a high, wrecking, raging, muddy course across two giant fields herding stubborn yearling heifers. Dad and i raced around on the buggy, and one jump brought us both two feet of the seat. It was really fun, and funny. I hid my tongue in the back of my mouth, far away from my clacking teeth caused both by the cold (I was wearing five layers on top and denim pants over my half inch thick fleece skiing long johns) and by the excitement. Oh yeah, and by rocketing over the sage brush and prairie dog holes like they were flat ground.
Evening brought us to the hot springs hotel seven miles away in the "town". It's the kind of place a girl raised in auburn can seem like the sophisticated, cosmopolitan type. Both the pool and the indoor spa are drained and cleaned daily, so there is no need for the addition of chemicals. (The hotel and hot spring were also at one point owned by John Ringling, odd sort of town, for sure). After a long hot soak, we headed to Lori's Montana Roadhouse: A bar. A bar where i sat at the counter and the tender asked me how my graduation was, without prompting. Everyone in this town knows each other pretty well. I had a shirley temple and a half, dad downed some breaded and fried cheese curds, while i stuck to french fries. Which were undoubtedly the best french fries this side of France.
I got in bed at like 9:15, staring out my window at the last sun touched clouds fading to a soft blue. Being this far north in the summer is interesting. Someday I'd surely like to spend a summer up closer to the midnight sun of alaska. An hour later after some reading and phone calls, the sky and earth will still very blue and well lit, like dusk.