since I began training, I've gone 1400 miles.

Dad was christened today as an official x-country bicycler by being caught in a hailstorm. His dutiful son had ridden ahead to get hotel rooms. During the storm, the dutiful son played video poker in the bar.

dad is fine, the day was good, & all is well.

They had driven my dad up to meet me on my trip so that he could join me.  Because he wasn't too sure how well he'd handle everything, they served as his "cover" for a few days in case he wanted to pack it in and return to Denver.

Meanwhile, because of my previously mentioned obsession with wanting to smoke and not wanting to admit it, I booked myself a cheesy motel about a mile away from this campground. 

The night we arrived in Butte, we had Mexican dinner and then played some slots.  I was still quite excited by the fact that gambling was legal in Montana.  More importantly, though, I wanted to find live poker.

As I write this in 2003, I am a little baffled by my callousness.  Poker and cigarettes?  When my dad had made this huge effort to train, overcome his pain, and travel to meet me on my journey?