A Polecat by any other name...

One of the great things about riding a motorcycle is that you get to experience your environment in a more "first-hand" way. Bikers refer to cars as a "cage." But when you ride along a ribbon of highway without a cage, you see AND smell so much more.

Today we left Missoula MT about 7:00 am knowing that we had a long way to go. We went through Butte, and Belgrade. Ate lunch in Bozeman. Then on to Boudras and Billings, eventually ending our day in Belle Fourche...and I didn't plan all the "B" names. In total we rode 994 km today. (Ever heard of bike-butt?) In Boudras it was so hot I went into the gas station and there was Clint Eastwood. He was hot too so I asked him if he wanted some of my water. He said, "I reckon." He was grateful and offered me a part in his next movie. Said he needed someone with my moxie. But I told him I was on a bike trip and couldn't do it.

So besides seeing amazing geography, rock formations, and landscapes in Montana, Wyoming, and South Dakota, we saw the battlefield at the the Little Bighorn where Custer had his last stand. We saw the headwaters of the Missouri river. There were deer and antelope, and they were playing at home on the range. We saw quaint American towns, many with homemade sculptures on the lawns, reminding me again that there is a fine line between hobbies and mental illness.

And the smells -- fresh mown hay and...skunks! Dead skunks on the road. I've never been on a trip where I saw and smelled so many dead skunks. On average, one an hour I'd say. The lowly polecats met their demise in such an undignified way, protesting with an aroma that ensured they would be remembered by any who passed that way.

And tomorrow it's on to Sturgis.