Adventures aren’t adventures without risk and possibility of failure, and our planned trip down the Missouri River was foiled. We packed well with food and water for a two-week trip, put Cody the dog at his observation post, and began the drive, which was about 350 miles. We drove Big Red, Cowboy Bob’s Ford pickup, and pulled a large floating vessel called the Far West behind us and began the trip. Well, let me tell you, Montana is a danged bit state. We passed an area called the Big Wide Open, outside of Billings, and that was only the beginning. We went by and through a bunch of notable places including the Tumbleweed Saloon, a small town called Roundup that hosted four cemeteries (I’ve heard people are dying to live there…old joke, sorry). We saw several mountain ranges, trains, and even a tractor on a cross-country trip to raise awareness of Parkinson’s Disease and finally saw the road we wanted. It was labeled, “Gravel Road Ahead.” The map showed it as a much shorter route to the Missouri River road, so we took it. Ten miles max, we thought. Cowboy Bob is a great driver and full of confidence, but this road about did him in. The shorter road turned out to be a longer route and the sign should have read, “Almost Impassible Rutted Dirt/Clay Road Ahead,” but we trekked on, racing antelope and elk, but they easily left us in the proverbial dust (mud). Cody focused his eyes on the antelope, and it was all I could do to keep him from leaping through the window. We saw a few signs on the road, all of which read “Save the Cowboy.” By then, I looked over at Cowboy Bob and considered if I really thought saving the cowboy was a good idea.