Hello! It’s me.
I like to start each day with an honest assessment of campground threats. There are only three types of threats.
- Chupacabra (click here).
All threats this morning were perceived … thank goodness.
So we headed back to the rig, and awaited a visit from “Mike”.
Mike’s job was to fix our water pump. And with a modest amount of embellishment, the conversation went something like this:
Dad: The water pump doesn’t work.
Mike: Is there water in the tank?
Mike: Is the winterization switch on?
Mike: Let me take this thing apart.
Mike: This thing is broken.
Mike: I have another appointment to go to. And the closest replacement water pump is thirty-five miles away. Or one-hundred miles away. You can probably get an appointment for Tuesday.
Dad: That’s five days from now.
Dad: That’s not going to happen.
Mike: I need to leave, but not before I get $80.
Mike: It should be $125, but I am not charging you for the trip up here.
Dad: But you didn’t fix the problem!
Mike: I take cash or check.
Dad: I already knew the water pump was broken. Mom already knew the water pump was broken.
Mike: Now all three of us know it’s broken. Haven’t seen a problem like this in twenty years. Ok, please write a check for $80.
As of press time, Dad is planning on purchasing a water pump in Williston or on Amazon and plans on installing it himself.
Dad was amply “corked-off”, if you know what I am saying (and Mom knows all too well what I am saying). So corked-off that he wanted to stay in a hotel tonight. More on that in a moment.
We looked for Mountain Goats, but to no avail.
Then we crossed the Continental Divide – it’s all downhill from here!
We enjoyed the last gasp of Glacier National Park from the rig.
As we drove away, Mom admired her stamps from Glacier National Park.
Here’s a gentle observation about Northern Montana … it’s looks a lot like this:
To be honest, the landscape bored me.
So just when it looked like all hope was lost, and my mind would drift into oblivion for the next five hundred miles, this happened:
Yes – that’s the DASH IN!!!! I am so popular in Montana that they are naming restaurants after me. Dad got a malted milkshake in my honor … I reveled in the glow of localized fast food.
Finally, the countryside took on a new personality.
And then, a disjointed rainbow.
The bottom of the rainbow pointed us to a pot of gold known as Glasgow, where we decided to spend the evening. I sat in the rig while Dad ate his way across Glasgow.
That’s walleye and sweet potato fries, coupled with an ice-cold Old Milwaukee Light. Dad offered me some of the walleye – you know what I did with it? SPIT. IT. OUT. No boring whitefish for my discerning palette.
I ended the night searching for threats at our hotel. I decided that any threats were perceived, and for good reason. Any hotel with air conditioning units is safe from chupacabra.
Wait … what is that shadow just below and between the units?
Before I went to bed, I played some tug-of-war with Dad.
Tomorrow, we arrive in North Dakota. I fully expect a parade when we arrive. Or a fast food establishment named after me. Sound good?