Don’t get confused by this picture. We’ll discuss that later.

Arriving at Clarkia was the first moment our tires touched the paved road in a long time. It felt like gliding. There was no more uncontrolled bouncing all over the trail as a result of random encounters with boulders, potholes, washboards, erosion grooves across the road, and branches of the trees around us. Our dislocated kidneys were finally finding their original locations.

The town of Clarkia consists of a grocery store, a gas station (no premium, that’s for the city wimps), and a few houses. But it felt like a haven. Now, we didn’t have to drink boiled water from the local mountain creek or eat that awful dry food anymore. A banana and yogurt from that grocery store tasted like Michelin-starred dining.

Riding from Clarkia to Missoula was a 3.5-hour trip through very scenic nature, but it was a very fast ride. The official speed limit on this road is 130km/h (80m/h) – occasionally, we may have overachieved  🙂

According to Julian, who’s been here before, Missoula is a lovely small city with many interesting things to see and lots of good hotels.
That was all true except for the hotel part. There are plenty of them in the city, but every one of them was booked solid. It felt very unusual not to be able to find a place to sleep in a city of this size. After lots of calls and research, we were able to find the last available room in a nice hotel in the suburbs for one night and, again, the last available room the night after in another hotel. Yes, we are staying two nights in the same city, in two different hotels.
When we arrived at our first hotel, we immediately discovered what was going on.

We arrived in Missoula right in the middle of the biggest concert season: Pearl Jam, Tyler Childers, P!NK, … Thank God, Taylor Swift wasn’t here.

For those of you who know the three of us well, you know that each of us are on a very disciplined diet and fitness regime. So, it’s not our fault that all the restaurants were closed by the time we found the hotel and that we ended up in an establishment where they only served chicken limbs (soaked in a souse that can burn a hole in your stomach) and burgers. After we neutralized the chemical reaction of that food in our stomachs with a few beers, we decided to go back to our hotel.

And that’s where the critical decision was made, following the wisdom of the group’s elder (Sasa): “When in Missoula, do what Missoulans do”. Needless to say, we bought tickets for the P!NK concert. And not just any tickets, the ones in the very front of the crowd. We just don’t do things half-ass.

The following day, after doing some mandatory motorcycle maintenance, such as replacing brake pads, chain lubrication, holding a cup of coffee, and staring at the beauty of German engineering called BMW, we packed up and moved two miles down the road to our next hotel.

Retired people like me also took time to sit on the sofa and read the age-appropriate newspaper.

Our pre-concert fine dining consisted of a few beers from a local brewery and a couple of pizzas that we Ubered to the same brewery.

It took us a while to determine why everyone was looking at us. It wasn’t the handsome Serbian from Detroit with the wave in his hair or the charming Colombian with the sexy accent. It was the size of our pizzas.

I know, I know. They look ridiculously big, and there is no way we can eat that much. To Julian’s credit, he tried to offer some to the next table, but they didn’t feel like pizza tonight. Some 30 minutes later, this was our progress.

While enjoying our meal and beers, Sasa was busy writing yesterday’s blog.

Now, with 3500 calories each in our bellies,  we are ready to dance the night away at the P!NK concert.

Just as a side note, both Julian and Sasa surprised me with their knowledge and appreciation for P!NK. They knew her values, what she stands for, what brand of tractor she drives in her vegetable garden, and much more. I felt very out of date, but I am glad they caught me up. I am ready now. P!NK, here we come!

The local football stadium was filled with 25,000 people. Just for context, Missoula’s total population is 75,000, so this was a big deal for the locals.

The opening band for P!NK was Sheryl Crow. Quite a big name for the opening act. And she was fantastic. She got the whole crowd fired up with a few hits that even I recognized.

When P!NK stepped on the stage, the stadium exploded. If I had known that the ladies around us could scream that hard, I would have brought my motorcycle earplugs.

P!NK was absolutely fantastic! The quality of her musicians and dancers on the stage was exceptional. The 25,000 crown was on fire for two hours nonstop.

At one point, the harness dropped from the sky. She strapped it on, and she started flying from one end of the stadium to the other, often just a few feet over our heads. Occasionally, she would touch the ground to sing to the fans in that spot.

The concert was much more than what I was expecting. I am glad we were there. The only thing I regret is that the merch stand was so crazy busy that, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t purchase three pink or P!NK shirts. Maybe next time  🙂

On our way back to our hotel, we reflected on the unusual sequence of events in the last 72 hours, which included worrying about our lives and safety in the middle of the forest and attending a P!NK concert. That’s the beauty of being on the road on two wheels.