Hello Fellow Travelers. Viruses and peaceful protests have me looking closer to home for my carousing this summer. So here are some photos from a quick 2 day, 400 mile, trip to central Montana at the end of August, taking me through the Snowy Mountains and Judith Mountains near Lewistown. Come on along if you're bored. As a dang interesting fact that you can toss around during book club – Lewistown just happens to be the geographic center of Montana. Who knew? In fact, I think the actual center is right smack dab in the middle of the Big Spring Brewery. And if that is not reason enough to ride to Lewistown, I don't know what is. I was joined the first day by two compadres. And my failing memory tells me my friends suggested that I pick up the rear on the long gravel section, and that it was a lot dustier than what this photo would have you believe. Big Snowy's up ahead about 35 miles. We ended up misjudging an intersection and took a left when we should have taken our other left. This brought us south of the Big Snowies rather than east of them. I think we charged along for 30 minutes or so before it dawned on us that we were heading for the Pacific. You would think three old war horses who spent their lives in these parts would know better. Don't get old. It did bring us to a vantage point that we don't get to often. These grasslands just go on and on and on. Only good for cows, sheep, and disposing of one's enemies. Getting a belly full of dust, I roll up next to a nice little starter home and decide to stop and let my two companions get a few miles ahead. You know, a little paint and gingerbread and I think you’d really have something here. I'll see a bunch of these on this trip – pretty tough to be a homesteader. Ok, now on to my first near death experience... The gravel roads up in these parts are generally pretty well tended and can support 60+ mph all day long if you are a race-honed stud such as myself. What is a little disconcerting are the blind rises that creep up on you. Well, near the end of the gravel that you can see below is another gravel road that comes in and intersects from the right, hidden behind one of these aforementioned rises. As I am hammer down cresting this rise my keen eyesight picks up this intersecting road but not the road continuing straight ahead. So it takes me about a millisecond to realize that my 16 year old brain has somehow gotten my 60 year old body into a pretty tough spot. And in a physics defying unrepeatable maneuver that would bring Steve McQueen to his feet in a standing ovation, I bring things to a stop. I am pretty sure I saw Angels, I saw my Uncle Earl smiling and giving me a fist pump, and I saw other relatives with their mouths open. My body absolutely aches from adrenaline, but It feels like I have won the lottery. And I have – the stupid old man lottery. So after an imaginary cigarette, I find the wherewithal to maturely set out after my two buddies. And there they are, apparently unconcerned and/or uncaring that I have just cheated the jaws of death. More later.