Another private story

One of the very few stories my children may not have heard me tell adnausium is the tale of Townsend Montana.

As today was to be primarily a travel day, setting myself up an appropriate distance from my next scenic loop so as not to have too far to ride tomorrow, I tried to pull up a map of Montana to determine where I might stop for the day. Because my stay at TR lodge last night was sans WiFi I was not able to get a map to come up. It was then a choice of where I wanted to go to get WiFi service. My options were the Grand Lodge of Glacier or finding something in Browning, about 15 miles to the east and on my route anyway.

My first drive-by in Browning showed no obvious choice, so I stopped at what I thought was a restaurant, only to find out it was a grocery store. The lady in the deli department recommended I backtrack to the Casino, where I could get both WiFi and breakfast.

So yesterday I was sublimely lost in Natures tranquility; today it was all the noise and conversations of a Casino! A contrast in styles, to say the least.

I was able to get WiFi access just long enough to compile the components of my blog post for yesterday, but not long enough to post it, or look at a map. 

After I walked out of the casino I was able to pull up a map to see where I was headed. I knew the route, but not today's destination. As I stretched the map, each time the screen refreshed I saw a few new small towns show up. Then I saw it, right on the recommended scenic route that I had chosen, but heretofore unobserved - Townsend, Montana. 

Back in October 1975, Betty and I were working our way across the northern path we had laid out for our honeymoon travels. I believe I mentioned a few days ago that we had travelled, basically from National Park to National Park, in a 23 foot Mini-home, a Class C vehicle with the bed over the cab. As we travelled, Betty sat with a map in one hand, a camera in the other, navigating while taking in the sites. As we worked our way between Mount Rushmore (or as they say in Canada, Mont Rushmore) and Glacier our "check engine" light came on.

This is in 1975, and the check engine light had just been invented (invented in 1970, took 4 years to work out the spelling), so we did not know how soon we were to check the engine - before refueling, before your anniversary, before lunch? So we did what anyone would do when you see a light come on that you have never seen before - we panicked! Kind of like the guy at Chernobyl when he saw the "check nuclear reactor" light come on.

The next town listed on the map was Townsend, Montana. It was so small they abbreviated the name Tsend on the map. Would they have a Ford dealer? Have they ever had a "check engine" light come on? Did they have enough black tape to cover it so we could be on our way? A more practical concern  was "will they put us ahead of the hundreds of others in town that relied on the Ford dealer to keep them running every day"?

So, being Big City folk, we outsmarted them. We pulled the Mini-home up in front of their overhead door so no one else could get in before us when they opened the next morning. We then ate our dinner and crawled up into the bed above the cab. It was after dark so we figured that the day was over. But not in Townsend, Mt!

After laying there for several minutes we noticed that there were car horns honking. Not long obnoxious blasts but brief "beep, beep" honks at irregular intervals. We looked at each other quizzically. When the car horns continued we opened the curtain that covered the little window above the windshield.

Keep in mind, this was 1975, when instead of "chatting" or texting someone across the room, a different teen ritual was in vogue - cruising!

This being a very small town the "circuit" was abbreviated. They had one "Main Street", so on Friday evenings, all evening, teens from all over Townsend, from blocks away, came and cruised up Main St. and, when they reached the far end, did a U-Turn and cruised back again in the opposite lane, only to repeat the entire procedure all over again. Each time they passed another car, the occupants of which presumably were the opposite sex, they would honk, beep beep, possibly wave, or stick their head out the window and offer their best pick-up line. 

This went on for a half hour or so, then it very quickly and very suddenly got quiet. We took a quick peep out of the curtains again and saw... no one! No one that is except the local police cruiser, with a young man behind the wheel, slowly patrolling Main St. From our vantage point we could see a steady stream of cars sneaking down the alley behind the buildings across the street. We figured who ever had a car that was not running was appointed sheriff for the evening.

As soon as his tail lights disappeared, the cars reappeared, the beep beeping recommenced and all was right with the world of Townsend, Mt. for another half hour. It was hilarious to watch this ritual unfold on Main St, just like it did in numerous small towns across America every Friday, with but a single street forming the circuit!

So I'm staying in the only motel in town. It is supposed to have free WiFi but I can not get logged in. So I have my clothes getting cleaned at the laundromat while I sit in a restaurant across the street from a WiFi park. The signal there is strong enough I can log in at my table, write this and post it, while my clothes go roundy round in the dryer. What could be more Main Street than that, hey?

     Not Main St. In Townsend!