“People have your kind all wrong. Techno-nerds aren’t supposed to be men of action.” “They’re not. Women are…”
The trek across the northwestern corner of Montana—through the rural stretches, anyway—blurs together into a collage of roadside stands, arrowhead emporia, historic stagecoach stops, cowboy hats, tight Wranglers, poly-blend shirts, and straight Buck Owens on the radio. Colorfully named cities abound—Superior, Poison, Cut Bank, Chinook—but like any other town, they are ringed with Wendy’s, Best Buys, PetSmarts, and auto dealerships, nary a pair of steer horns in sight.
“Who said nothing’s an adventure when you’re living through it?”
His gap-toothed smile reminds me of Dave Letterman, only without the smarm.
The bedroom is a shoebox, with a doorless closet and barely space to walk around the bed.