|Rusty, Jess and Jerry|
We took off early and headed northeast, making a minor pit stop when Rusty's turn signal started breaking. He fixed it using a tube of Superglue from a local store. Sweet! Everything after that came up roses. If only that were true. We hit the first condo (hey I ride a BMW and we went in style) and it was a nice place but a little small. Rusty and I slept on the floor and listened to the snoring from the other room.
|Rusty being really really safe.|
The next morning we mounted up and headed to a condo at West Yellowstone. We spent three nights there, Rusty sleeping in the living room and Jerry and I cozy in our own private rooms, finally able to stretch out and relax. We bought over priced liquor and had martinis and cranberry vodkas before sleeping peacefully. The next morning we took a leisurely ride through Yellowstone, seeing buffalo, elk, eagles, and all kinds of wilderness. We sat for what seemed like an eternity waiting for Old Faithful to burst, listening to a family from Florida discuss the merits of an RV. Back at the condo, after a full day's ride, we ate like kings, drank more, watched basketball and laughed at Jerry's stories. It was a perfect day. The next day we were off to Butte, MT to meet one of Jerry's old co-workers for lunch. We met at a restaurant that is famous for it's breads (sorry, can't remember the name) so we bought huge cinnamon rolls for breakfast the next morning (which we forgot to eat).
Right before quitting time the rain stopped and Rusty ran out of gas. He pushed the bike until a woman came outside her house and offered to give him some gas to get him to the next station. It was the one bit of luck we had that wasn't bad. She told us about the next town and how to use the gas pumps even though the station was closed. We found the hotel and when we rolled up helpful man told us the proprietor was off having a birthday dinner for his wife. We hit the pavement looking for dinner and found a Chinese cafe nearby (ok maybe it was one of the only places to eat other than the gas station). During dinner the motel owner came down and found us, saying he'd go back and prep the room (turn on the heat since we were clearly cold and miserable) and even took money off since Rusty would have to sleep on a rollaway. Nice town and wonderful people... if you can excuse the giant white elk with it's butt facing the sky on the roof of the hotel.
That morning we rode a few hundred miles to LaPine and were home. I took the next week off from my vacation to have a vacation at the beach. And the week at Yellowstone? It was a wonderful trip, a rider's dream on some roads, a nightmare on others. There's something about riding a bike through a snow storm and watching buffalo walk so close you can reach out and touch them, that bonds you. So next year, I say we head...south. To the sun and a beach. Let someone else touch the buffalo. I just want to touch a margarita glass and leave my heated jacket at home.
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