Every time I start writing this post I end up starting over. Because I have been told, on more than one occasion, that this better be the best damn post ever and I need to go on and on about what a wonderful friend Broderick is. And ok, he's alright. There was that one time he slept in my floor for 2 months because he desperately wanted to live in Chicago but had no job or place to live and we almost killed each other. But I'll save that story for another day. Luckily, our friendship survived and he flew out to Montana the night before Rob flew home.
We stayed in a little roach motel outside of Bozeman with, yes, ROACHES. Big, fast, ones crawling on the ceiling. And then we hit the road.
Seeing how excited he was to be out west made me excited all over again. Although I wouldn't change a thing about doing the trip solo, it was always fun when friends were able to join me. It reminded me of how excited I was when I first left home back in April.
We drove a couple hours out of the way to hit the Beartooth Highway, an incredibly scenic stretch of road that takes you into the park. I would highly recommend it if you ever get the chance.
The only bad part is at one point we got out at an overlook and heard a funny noise. A hissing kind of noise.... coming from under the hood. Now at this point I had driven about 10,000 miles on my 1997 Corolla with no problems at all. But that switchback climb, in the middle of nowhere Montana, with no cell phone service or clue what was going on, got me. My car was starting to overheat. We were miles from anywhere that could tell me what was going on and had no idea if we were going to get to a campground in time to have a place to sleep that night. So we filled the reservoir tank back up with water, said a little prayer, and kept driving.
It's a beautiful place.
Around the second or third time the car started sputtering we met a biker from Wisconsin on an overlook. Camping spots in the area fill up quick and he didn't have a place to stay, so we offered to share our campsite not really expecting to see him again. But a couple hours later there he was at our campground with beer and snacks, which is especially great after driving all day, so we moved our stuff over.
We went over our maps, swapped stories, and got some great suggestions of what to do in Yellowstone the next day. I think about that night every time I pass a red motorcycle going down the road.