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My Montana Firsts
It’s sticky, not yet sizzling. I check directions on an old-fashioned paper map. Just in case the nav system doesn’t work, I tell myself. Daily heat alerts for the west suck out plans for a chilly day. I’ve had more than enough physical and emotional heat these last few weeks. I want cool and calm, welcoming peace and harmony.
I want a road trip.
Back from the pandemic sheltering-in-place and a couple of years in central Mexico, I’ve landed in Oregon, driven to my house in California. Now I’m headed to Montana, to Helena, the state’s capital. In all the times I’ve worked and traveled through Montana, I’ve missed it.
Traveling with me are innumerable problems. Partner tussles, tenant hassles, squatter problems, health issues. Fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, cooling system adjusted, fuel tank filled, NPR, classical, comedy, and country stations located on the sound system. Favorite camping gear in the back. Water and snacks onboard. Electronics stored properly.
I’m ready.
Dreaming of this day for months, I slide into the driver’s seat, turn off the sound system, pull the gearshift into Drive. Now I’m meditating to a different ohm. Ask me to wash dishes, vacuum, or shine the windows? My back aches immediately and I’m exhausted. Drive eleven hours a day on interstate or better yet, back roads? Let’s…
