The view of a gargantuan mountain range outside my motel room just couldn't compete with the Oxygen Network on the free cable today. I endured the sappy unrealistic coupling of pre-gerbil Richard Gere to Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman" while simultaneously flipping to CNN's Anderson Cooper somberly interviewing a transgendered Navy Seal.

While I prefer being unplugged from media on this journey, my feral transformation is not complete. Like a junkie getting a long awaited fix, I enjoyed hours of offal served up on the outdated Braun tube. I've been looking at mountains and waterfalls for days. Yawn. There's even more spectacular nature to come and, really, who can resist the proto-"Fifty Shades of Grey?" Not me, that's for sure.
All of the slothfulness threw me into a near anxiety attack this evening. The feeling that I wasn't progressing made me jumpy. I don't like the feeling that this trip is my "job" now and I'm trying to shake it. I think when Katy gets here with the kids tomorrow, I'll feel better about this multiple day hiatus.

I calmed myself a bit by riding a few miles to Columbus Falls. I yakked with a family setting up a yard sale and took pictures of their chickens and enormous house cat. Then I had dinner in a Chinese restaurant that serves cheeseburgers and Philly cheesesteaks. It's a post-post modern world.
Since I'm rambling, I want to take a moment to mention that Montanans are good. In my book "good" transcends "nice." Nice people care if you like them; good people care about you. Nice people stretch the truth; good people don’t. Around here, there's a real lack of malicious affability. The stuff I find in people that know I have a credit card.

I expect authenticity and giving personalities in folks, so I do my best to be sincerely friendly. Its been a love fest in Montana because of the reciprocity of good will. If you look in any direction, you come to realize that people out here have it made whether they live in a shack or own palatial ranches like the crusty killionaire, Ted Turner. There isn't much to be churlish about.
As I settle in for the night and see the talking heads rage on Fox and MSNBC, I'm thankful that my wife, kids and mom have encouraged me to be a bum this summer. The blissful ignorance I'm acquiring gives me a smile that could power a third world country, or a Lionel train set, at least. I cherish the rare domestic circumstance I'm in. It's priceless. I know many less fortunate fellas that are scrotally anchored in a vice.

Oh boy, gotta go! The best of Oprah is gonna start in a minute.