Chapter 38

Karen

Ever wake up and it’s a whole new world?

Yesterday was exhausting. Long miles and even weird miles. Who, in their right mind, allows alcohol and blackpowder in the same area? Said area being the shooting range. And then, just across the valley ... down range from the crazy people ... a bunch of elitists, but of the same ilk, shooting rifles that easily carry a thousand yards.

Perhaps they’ll kill or main each other.

I easily covered five hundred miles and never noticed. I spent a lot of time saying to myself, What the Hell was that? Joint Educational Vole Survey Area with busses from Montana State and University of Montana parked at the side of the road ... except there was NO side ... they were parked ON the road! What the Hell was that? United States Olympic Ski Jump Training Area ... and yes ... I turned around ... walked across the road and looked ... Ski jump ... yup ... big one ... with artificial snow and jumpers. And ... AND ... I was not very politely asked to move along.

I stopped at the Top of the World where I learned that petrified fish could be found in the white streak in the mountain dead across Beartooth Lake. Some were very complete and others were body only.

Sure I stopped ... the walk was too far.

When I finally rented a room at the hotel ... I slept the sleep of the dead. I woke up ravenous ... so back to the Road Kill ... Flat Cats ... Single or a Stack.

I had a stack with eggs between each cat ... so they looked like runny puss ... it was great! I can’t stand syrups. I have my flatcats with salt, pepper and real butter. Mmmm.

The back road to Livingstone and then over the pass to Bozeman ... time for another breakfast.

The sign read: Montana State University ... with an arrow pointing south.

Sure ... why not.

7th street took a jog at Main ... but the sign one block west read: Montana State University ... with an arrow pointing south. So I didn’t turn on 7th ... I turned south on 8th. Up the slight hill the truck coughed. I turned in at the Exxon. I suppose I could have turned across traffic and bought gas at the Mini Mart ... but there was FULL SERVICE ad the Exxon.

The attendants shirt read Roy.

“I ran out of gas, Roy. Fill ‘er up, please...

“Yes Ma’am ... those tipi poles?” He was gawking while doing the work. And FULL SERVICE meant exactly that. He checked the air in my tires and the oil in the engine, the water in the washer and the anti freeze in the radiator. He pried the tops off the battery and added water to the cells.

“Your battery posts are dirty. I’ll clean ‘em, if you can spare a minute or three.”

“Have at it, Roy ... what ever...”

“I can see why you ran out of gas.”

“Why is that?”

“Your gas gauge doesn’t work.”

“Never has, Roy.”

“I can fix it.”

“Go for it.” I asked, “Roy ... I’m starved half to death.”

“Right next door, Ma’am.” Roy pointed “Pickle Barrel ... Really good subs and soup. Ma’am...”

“Karen, please.”

“Karen ... can I get you to park in front of the far bay door?”

I moved the Dodge, tossed Roy the keys and meandered next door.

“What can I get you,” said the high school girl behind the counter.

“I have no idea ... what do you eat?” I asked. “Never mind ... just make it.”

She turned to, “Spear you a pickle.”

Sure enough ... a barrel ... full of BIG pickles. It was scrumpshish and yummy too.

“We brine ‘em ourselves,” she said while making my sandwich.