This is what happened: My sad tale of woe
Yesterday, we drove from Jamestown, North Dakota to Miles City, Montana. I had begun to get into the rhythm of the trip, and I rode contentedly along, noting changes in the topography, thinking about what I would wear to Willow's Manor Ball and who my escort would be, planning to write about it when we settled in for the night.
At Miles City, the very kind lady who ran the RV park assured us that yes, there was wi-fi. She was right. There was indeed a wi-fi network, and we did manage to log on to it for a minute, but then we were thrown off, and we never did manage to get back on -- so there went my plans. On the bright side, we had stopped at about 1:30 in the afternoon to check out Theodore Roosevelt National Park -- specifically Painted Canyon -- and I had taken a lot of photos there. In lieu of trying to remember what happened yesterday, a lot of water having gone under the bridge since then, I'll show you those. Then I'll tell you about today.
So that was yesterday. Today, we left Miles City at 8:30 in the morning. Everything went well until mid-afternoon. Highway 94 had given over to Highway 90 at Billings, Montana, and we had got as far as Livingston, just a few miles east of Bozeman. Suddenly, the engine quit. Deja vu. The last time we drove through this part of the world, the same thing happened. And happened. And happened. We knew what to do. "We should loosen the gas cap," I said.
"I did that this morning," said Robin.
Hmmm. After a dozen or so false starts, we managed to limp off the highway and into the lot of an RV dealer/repair shop. They had a look, said it was probably vapour lock, but advised us to take the machine to Silent Knight Muffler Shop (I love that name) in Bozeman and have our exhaust leak fixed. Sure enough, we had noticed a noise -- but we just had the exhaust fixed. Oh, well. Never mind. Off we went to Silent Knight. The fellow there sent us to the Ford dealer in Bozeman, who in turn set up an appointment for tomorrow morning at the Ford dealer in Butte, about an hour and a half from here. Tomorrow morning, then, we will find out whether this is a quick fix or whether we have to cut our trip short and head into Canada.
So here we are, at a very pleasant place called Sunrise Campground, baking in 30C heat but otherwise comfortably settled for the night. The wi-fi actually works (a big plus) and the office offers a no-charge loan of dvds for the night. I chose "Crazy Heart" on the manager's recommendation -- (When he came back to the office after showing Robin to our site, he said "Your husband said you would be bringing back a chick flick." so I asked him to pick one we might both like.) And --- I got "Letters to Juliet", which was recommended to us just the other day.
Meanwhile, there still remains the problem of getting ready for a ball -- and by the way, my apologies for not linking to Willow's blog when I first brought the matter up. So far, this is what I've decided:
My date. As soon as I let it be known that I would attend, the invitations came flooding in. (So little time...) Colin Firth was on the phone within minutes, wanting to repeat last year's frolic, but that would be so -- last year, no? I considered going with Robert Downey Jr., but he's been doing all that Iron Man stuff lately, and I wasn't sure that was the kind of image I wanted to present -- then I came across Denzel's note, scribbled on the back of his calling card (Isn't that delightfully Old World? I'd never have expected it!). "Let's dance the night away," he wrote.
Speaking of redheads, I should confess that I've let my redness slip of late, opting for a more Distinguished (old) look -- but for the Ball, I can reverse that process. Also, it should be said, I tend to wear my hair quite short (like this)
There. I have a date, and I know how I'll be wearing my hair. Now I really must start shopping.
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