Scenic Weekend Ride, Montana

On the way to Virginia city.

     Saturday was a perfect day for riding; 400 miles went by without a hitch. From Livingston to Ennis for lunch was how the morning started out. The pass you go over, right before you drop down into Ennis is always a favorite place to stop. I always stop to take a picture, but I have never been able to capture the beauty of it all with a camera. My pal Jeff borrowed my R1150RTP for the day, his bike is currently under repair. Evidently the view was so breath taking, he became disoriented due to oxygen deprivation, he actually got turned around.
    After lunch and a quick stop (well, not so quick) at Shedhorn Sports ( www.shedhorn.com/), we gassed up the bikes and headed towards Virginia City www.virginiacitymt.com/, it's a cool old gold mining town. Once again, the twisty, rolling road that gets you there is tops.


My Beautiful Bride dressed for the Ride



As you exit Virginia City and ride right into Nevada City, you begin to see heaps of dirt and river rock heaped in big clumps, all along the small winding creek. If you've ever heard someone say their world has been turned completely upside down, here you will have a visual to go along with that phrase. Imagine getting ready for a week long ski trip with your friends. Now imagine you are all packed and waiting by the front door for them to pick you up. You are already behind schedule and need to make good time in order to make sure you get a room at the chalet for the week, as it's on a first come first serve basis. Picture your friends pulling up, honking the horn, yelling, "let's go!". Now, imagine you just realize you only have 1 glove. After giving your friends the one finger gesture that indicates, "wait a minute", (I know some of your friends would require an alternate, yet similar gesture in order to quit honking), you rush back to the closet where your winter gear is heaped up, and you begin to pull article of clothing, one after the other, and whip it over your head, backwards. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Right handful, then left handful, like a windmill spinning out of control. If you were in water right now, you would rival Michael Phelps at his Olympic calibre back stroke pace. Frantically, you pull piece after piece of winter gear from the pile, at an alarming rate, with the tenacity of a caffeine jacked honey badger, you send them whaling over one shoulder, then the next. Got the picture? Those heaps if dirt and rocks are what is left after miners, looking for gold were through. They did it just like that. It's a horrible mental picture, but the evidence remains.
     The back roads that winded their way home were beautiful, to say the least. It seemed like every time we passed through a small town, the temperature on their bank marquee showed, 72 degrees.

I stopped to take this picture on the way home. It reminded me of a favorite riddle, although I'm not sure why.    Who's bigger, Mr Bigger, Mrs Bigger or Mr and Mrs Biggers baby?

Mr and Mrs Biggers baby is just a little Bigger.