On the roadside about twenty miles outside of Buffalo, MT, a herd of cattle were walking on the street. Maybe 30 of them, mostly black angus to my non-expert eye. The stroll was apparently not planned, as there were several men in trucks scratching their heads and, I think, trying to get the cattle onto a truck.

Hell if I know, though, I was whizzing by at 70 mph.

The speed limit is 80 in much of South Dakota, Wyoming, and Montana, but kiss my accelerator, I am comfortable at 65, feasible at 70, and willing to push 75 when passing, but I am not comfortable cruising at 80 mph all day.

Honk if you like. Flip me off. I don’t care.

Skipped breakfast and wanted a caffeine pill, but after crossing the border (“Welcome to Montana!”) the first two rest areas were closed. Isn’t that illegal or something?

I stopped at the third rest area, 200 miles into the morning, swallowed a wake-up pill, peed, and noticed this sign on my walk to the building: “Rattlesnake area. Stay on sidewalk.”

I stayed on the sidewalk, but do rattlesnakes obey the signs?

♦ ♦ ♦

Driving and driving and driving at 65-68 mph, I couldn’t see much of anything except all the cars and trucks passing me. It was cloudy all day, with a near-constant mix of snow and rain coming down, blocking a view of the mountains or scenery.

Approaching the start of the pass, an electronic sign offered these words of encouragement: “Wind gusts ahead. Expect 60 mph side winds. Gusts currently 45 mph.” So it was not a relaxing drive, but hey, I made it to Missoula, MT. 

For a hundred miles or so there was a phenomenon I’d never seen before — fairly heavy snowfall, but driving at 65 or 70 mph was just fast enough that the snow was caught in the car’s airfoil effect, so the snowflakes wouldn’t hit the windshield. The snow floated right over me. My windshield wipers weren’t even on.

All the snow in the air, though, severely limited visibility, and recent reports of big Interstate smashups danced in my daydreams. I drove two stretches of 10 miles or so with my hazard lights flashing, an idea that came from a truck I could barely see a quarter-mile ahead of me. Good times, with white knuckles!

And still a few locals with gun racks on the back window flew past at 80.

When I was a kid on family camping trips, Montana put little white crosses at the side of the highway wherever there’d been a fatality. And they still do that. Saw a lot of crosses, and it’s an effective reminder of the danger, though the Christian symbolism seems the opposite of inclusive.

There were far fewer white crosses on the side of the highway, though, than when I was a kid. Fifty years ago, I remember counting the white crosses for a few hours, and there were hundreds. Yesterday I saw perhaps fifty, all day — which means, Montana is removing the white crosses after some set amount of time, and it’ must not be much time’s probably not long. The white cross is a short-term memorial to every fatal wreck.

♦ ♦ ♦

Still only able to see a short distance through the snow and rain, only my eardrums told me when the mountains had passed. Lots of steep upgrades and downgrades, and then just when I thought it was over, another sign would say, “Chain-up area ahead.” Man, whose idea was it to make the Rocky Mountains so gol durn high?

♦ ♦ ♦

Christian preaching and Christian hymns and Christian talk were more than half what I could hear on the radio, and half the rest was Rush Limbaugh’s hate-talk successors. On one station, the host spent an hour talking about how he’s been unfairly censored by Facebook for posting untrue statements (“as if Facebook knows anything about The Truth!”).

On a ‘morning zoo’ show, the running joke was about “blue idiots,” basically dumb things Democrats say and do. The hicks hate us. Do we hate them? No, but I do snicker sometimes.

In the mountains, I found rock’n’ roll on the radio, and it was a wonderful few minutes, but it faded to static before “Bohemian Rhapsody” could finish.

In a flat area, though, imagine my surprise at hearing Amy Goodman and Juan Gonzalez and Democracy Now for almost half an hour before they were killed by the distance and the mountains.

♦ ♦ ♦

Here in Missoula, checking in at the Clark Fork Inn (no website), they told me the wi-fi was out and offered a $5 discount. The thought of watching television or, hell forbid, reading a book, floated across my mind, but fuck that shit. I’d seen a ‘vacancy’ sign at the local Motel 6, so I cancelled canceled at the Clark Fork.

So much for mom-and-pop hotelling it, but after a day of God and Republicans on the radio, I needed some serious www.sanity.

The guy checking me at Motel 6 in was black — the first non-white face I’ve seen since Wisconsin. I resisted the urge to offer my sympathies, but it’s gotta suck to be black in Missoula, Montana.

♦ ♦ ♦

Haven’t seen a cop since Wisconsin, which is lovely. There are signs every fifty miles telling me to click it or ticket, stay sober or be pulled over, and a terrifying number of billboards urging people to report suspicions of human trafficking. But no cops at all.

♦ ♦ ♦

“Cats are resilient,” someone told me when I worried that my high-strung rescue cat with a history of abuse might not survive the move. Hoping that’s true.

In both the first two hotels, I opened the door of her carrying case, and she came out for a few minutes but crawled back inside — and she hates the carrying case. Last night, she came out, hid behind the fridge for a while, then jumped onto the bed to be petted and (finally) ate and pooped. She hadn’t done either since we left Wisconsin.

As I’m typing this, she’s rolling around on the bed, purring and asking me to rub her belly. But it’s time to check out and drive, which means shoving her back into the carrying case.

OK, a few more belly rubs…

♦ ♦ ♦

Rolling, rolling, rollng, keep this Chevy rolling…

If traffic flows smoothly and nobody’s fender gets bent, I’ll see the Seattle skyline this afternoon.

♦ ♦ ♦

My internet history from yesterday, minus the porn…  

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Out of appeals and with the National Labor Relations Board against them, ironically-named coffee shop chain is forced to recognize union 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Donald Trump, John Eastman and the Silence of the Justice Department 

• Trump
• Trump
• Trump
• Trump 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

COVID-19 coverage for the uninsured is ending 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

LiveJournal is currently serving as one of several platforms for Russia’s “covert social media propaganda efforts.” 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

Aw, fuck. ♦

♦ ♦

One-word newscast, because it’s the same news every time…
• cops • cops • cops
• homelessness
• Republicans 

♦ ♦ ♦

There will probably be no updates for a few days at least. Things are gonna be hectic.

♦ ♦ ♦

♫♬  Sing along with Doug  ♫
“Seattle” — Perry Como

3/30/2022 

Cranky Old Man is annoyed and complains and very occasionally offers a kindness, along with anything off the internet that’s made me smile or snarl. All opinions fresh from my ass. Top illustration by Jeff Meyer. Click any image to enlarge. Comments & conversations invited.

Tip ‘o the hat to All Hat No Cattle, Linden Arden, ye olde AVA, BoingBoing, Breakfast at Ralf’s, Captain Hampockets, CaptCreate’s Log, John the Basket, LiarTownUSA, Meme City, National Zero, Ran Prieur, Voenix Rising, and anyone else whose work I’ve stolen without saying thanks.

Extra special thanks to Becky Jo, Name Withheld, Dave S., and always Stephanie…

Cranky Old Man

itsdougholland.com
← PREVIOUS           NEXT →