I’m here for a reason.
I’ve got a friend getting transferred here in a few months who wants me to look for houses. I have to say, Great Falls has some really, really, great houses. It seems to have built up considerably during the Victorian-Craftsman transition, so that the majority of the downtown and core of the place are beautiful homes, merging the ornateness of the Victorians with Craftsman sensibility. Right up my alley. And, being Montana, there’s a lot of great outdoors stuff not too far away . . . but there’s not much here otherwise. So far. I’m exploring more of the region tomorrow, but it’s a working day.
In the meantime, I’m staying at the local KOA, which is nice, and taking care of all the chores that pile up on the road. Laundry, cleaning, meal prep, topping off the batteries in the Zero and the Scout.
Tighten All the Things.
And tightening things. After a month of taking the truck, the camper, the motorcycle, etc. down dirt roads in six states and counting, I’ve tightened the bolts on the motorcycle’s stuff carrier, the bolts on the motorcycle carrier, the bolts on the anti-rattle bar on the hitch, the water canister in the camper, the microwave in the camper, almost everything in the camper — oh, and the laptop I’m typing this on. The screws had just about shaken loose. Two did shake loose and I’ve only found one.
In this way, life on the road is a working metaphor for life as a whole . . . a journey wherein everything that makes the journey possible is being shaken to pieces. Your job, as the person nominally plotting the course and in charge of the journey, is just to try to stay one step ahead of it all, preferably with a crescent wrench in one hand and a ratchet in the other.