After my last post I found myself cruising around the vast prairie getting the lay of the land. It was a strange kind of beautiful that made you feel naked in the presence of all those ground squirrels. The ethereal moment came to an abrupt halt when a distinctive clunk shook the back of the truck. The transmission was toast.
I managed to make the short distance into a town called Cut Bank and filled up, not knowing whether I'd have to nurse the rig back to East Glacier where my belongings were, thirty-some miles distant. Wouldn't you know it, but the only Chevy dealer in the area was at the far end of town?
I had two options: Wait a week until the parts could be shipped and installed or; buy a new truck and complete my research. It's really interesting when you don't have enough money for repairs, but you can get into a new vehicle with a trade-in and no cash. It was a lost day, but I was able to get back into the saddle at the end of it.
On my way back to my motel I couldn't help but notice that same expansiveness and wondered what the Blackfeet must have felt when a horse came up lame. It would've been an awfully long walk with my walking stick!
More about the Indian Days experience in a future post after