Huckleberry Country

10/17/08

ACT I: St. Regis – Not the Patron Saint of vulcanized rubber

Let me first start out with an observation: Huckleberry shakes are incredibly delicious. If you’re ever in St. Regis, Montana, I strongly suggest you stop at the Frosty Drive-in and try one.

About now you might be asking yourself “How did Rob end up in St. Regis drinking a huckleberry shake?”. Well, once again, let’s rewind…

Heading out of Missoula, I hopped on the I-90 headed towards Spokane, WA. The drive is fairly scenic as it winds along, crisscrossing the Clark Fork River, and is surrounded by the foothills of the Rockies on either side.

Less than an hour into my drive, I began to notice a slight vibration in my steering wheel. Having driven through some fairly winding roads already, I began to wonder if my wheels had come out of alignment. Seeing as I was only about two hours from Spokane, the next big city, I kept truckin’…………for about ten more minutes.

At almost precisely 3:45pm, and exactly as I was crossing the Clark Fork for the final time, my sidearm went and discharged on it’s own accord inside the van. Except I don’t have a sidearm. And I’m pretty sure that my left front tire just exploded.

Upon further inspection, after pulling off to shoulder on the bridge, my suspicion was confirmed:

I'm not sure if this one can be patched...

Fortunately, the good folks at Volkswagon were kind enough to supply me with a full size spare instead of one of those donuts limited to 50 miles. After installing the replacement and retrieving my hubcap that jumped ship 100 feet back, I gave a quick check to the air pressure in all my tires. The spare was a little low, but good enough to get me the three miles to the next gas station, which just so happened to be in St. Regis. Seeing as how I was still a little shook up from having a blowout that nearly caused me loose control and drive off a bridge (just kidding mom, it wasn’t quite that dramatic), and noticing a sign for huckleberry shakes, I decided to treat myself to one.

ACT II: Gusoline Alley West?

It was smooth sailing from Huckleberry country westward. I passed through the pan handle of Idaho on my way to Washington without seeing even one potato. What a ripoff.

It took me about an hour to pass through Idaho and enter into the state of Washington. Once in Spokane I quickly realized that The Viking was the place to be.

This place reminded me slightly of being at Gus’s in Royal oak. The room hadn’t been redecorated in years, the seats were beginning to fall apart a bit, and if they hadn’t been making popcorn, I suspect there would be a strange smell in the air. But it had character! Combine all this with a solid beer selection and you end up with a recipe for success in my cookbook. I sat for a while trying to catch up on blogging while trying a couple of local beers.

Near the end of the night, I ended up chatting with a group of regulars. One of them was quite the beer aficionado, and liked to talk about it. Fortunately, I don’t have a problem listening when I comes to beer. As it was past 2:30 now, we relocated to the back parking lot to have a tasting of his personal collection (which he apparently carried with him). He opened up a few bombers and shared them with the group. Eventually around 3:30 we would run out of beer. He was kind enough to drive me back to my van, all the while suggesting beers and breweries for me to try along my trip.

As I was up several hours later than I had grown accustomed, I crashed hard and fast when I got to the van.

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