It should come as no surprise to you that when I wake up in a motel, I sleep late, pack slowly and roll out just before noon. As a matter of fact, you can take the words "in a motel" out of that sentence without altering the accuracy of it.
Anyway, I woke up and let me tell you, that motel looked like a lycra-bomb had gone off. It took me a long time to repack the gear that had covered the room, which made for a hectic morning.
I don't have a lot to say about the ride. I would push down with my right foot, then with my left foot, et cetera. I'm pretty close to the border with Canadia, but other than that, the road is standard Montana fare -- dry mountains and lodgepole pine.
On a bright note, my ribs are doing well despite my spastic accident. They really only hurt when I stand up on climbs. In truth, the hurt the most when I pack up the bike, but that's just pathetic, isn't it?
Tomorrow's ride will involve a long stretch without any services, so I bought a loaf of bread and some jelly to go with the peanut butter I have toted across the country. I found a cheap campsite at a trailer park, where I took a shower and did some laundry. Talk about adventure.