We are leaving Montana, continuing the autumn hunter’s road trip to Alberta, Canada. In the morning, preparing to embark, we realize the lug wrench for the Burb (my Chevy Suburban) won’t work on the fancy rims the truck came with, so we begin moving two mountains of gear from the Burb to my friend Aaron Tewell’s truck. (Tewelly and I are headed to Alberta to hunt.) While moving the gear, the painful realization hits that my passport is in my desk in Bozeman, 200 miles away. Panic and a major scramble ensue.
After numerous Google searches, calls, and texts, we arrange an epic two-step-tango rendezvous at the Sportsman Bar in Harlowton, Montana, 140 miles away. Getting me the passport requires my better half “Saint Sue” to drive to Livingston and pass off the passport to a friend of Aaron’s wife, named Jenny. Jenny swaps vehicles with Aaron’s wife Meriweather, fills up, and deadheads to Harlowton to meet me at the Sportsman Bar. Do I ever rejoice when Jenny walks into and brightens the dimly lit bar with an ear-to-ear smile, waving my passport! After brief hugs, we go our separate ways: Jenny back to Livingston and me driving like crazy to our camp on the Missouri River.
Upon arriving at camp we do some last-minute packing, close up the travel trailer (the Road Abode), and kennel Aaron’s young Chessie Carl and tricolor setter Sassy. My setter Meg curls up on top of the duffels in the backseat and we’re on the road.
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