Aaaah..travel in Montana.   Well, when I was young and handsome, and temporarily living in Alberta, I decided to meet some friends of mine in Los Angeles (they had place for me to stay there..but alas..no room in their already overcrowded car).

My first lift was from my roomate, who took me to a major highway at the edge of town.  Second lift, was a talkative young cowboy (the real deal), who told me of the cowboy "ways" of life.  I suppose he was impressed that I was so receptive to his one-way conversation, that he bought me lunch at a roadside diner.  He then posited me roadside in forlorn, Sterling, Alberta.  The wind was picking up now, wheatfields swaying, and it was clouding over ..late in the day.   I saw car after car, filled with farmers and their family, staring at me, but offering no ride, of course, while the sun was setting against the backdrop of the grain elevators.  Then...a tiny vehicle on the horizon..looming ever closer.   I thought to myself.."hmmm...maybe this car will take me all the way to L.A.!".  

Sho' nuff...up rolls a small Datsun or Toyota  truck with Maine license plates.   It was none other than Mark, Elaine (his enormous but kindly wife), and their freak friend with long blonde hair..Smitty, driving from Ft.Kent, Maine, all the way to...yep, LA...to visit Mark's retired folks..who ended up living in a place called Sunland or something like that, up in the smog-drenched hills of I think the San Fernando area.   Anyhow..it was a great trip, we did it in 3 days, 2 nights..continuous drive.  Mark had a very comfy sleeping bag rigged up in the rear of the truck, and we just rotated drivers continually. We all got great sleep, and just did our "shift" at the wheel.  I remember seeing some beautiful scenery in Idaho, watching the desert stars in Utah, while lying flat on my back on the sleeping bag, and an anything-but-friendly restaurant full of angry looking cowpokes near Sweetgrass, Montana (ahem..Robert).   Then there was the moonlike landscape of central Nevada, late at night, the inferno-like heat of Arizona, and the fruit/vegetable inspection entering California.  The only vegetables being the people in the car. 

Finally, Marks' neurotic, very Jewish parents, who did not seem to pleased that Markie was living the life of a hippie bum (probably on Daddie's money to boot).   I left ASAP...and grabbed the bus to Canoga Park (dumpus maximus) where my friends were staying.  When they opened the door and saw me...jaws dropped open...like how the hell did U make it???                            

A very good memory...I think around summer 1976.

Gene