Every time I start writing this post I end up starting over. Because I have been told, on more than one occasion, that this better be the best damn post ever and I need to go on and on about what a wonderful friend Broderick is. And ok, he’s alright. There was that one time he slept in my floor for 2 months because he desperately wanted to live in Chicago but had no job or place to live and we almost killed each other. But I’ll save that story for another day. Luckily, our friendship survived and he flew out to Montana the night before Rob flew home.
We stayed in a little roach motel outside of Bozeman with, yes, ROACHES. Big, fast, ones crawling on the ceiling. And then we hit the road.
Seeing how excited he was to be out west made me excited all over again. Although I wouldn’t change a thing about doing the trip solo, it was always fun when friends were able to join me. It reminded me of how excited I was when I first left home back in April.
We drove a couple hours out of the way to hit the Beartooth Highway, an incredibly scenic stretch of road that takes you into the park. I would highly recommend it if you ever get the chance.
And then, after a couple mishaps with my 1997 Corolla, we headed into Yellowstone.
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