You Can Take the Girl Out of Idaho, but...

'Are you comin' huckleberry pickin' tomorrow?' I asked Dave as we pedaled our bikes up the mountain road. In the flash of a moment I realized the difference between Canada speech and Idaho speech. Simply drop the final 'g'. Of course the lifelong locals have a pronounced drawl as well. To my long canadianized ears, it is noticable. I wonder if I used to speak like that growing up in Idaho? I wonder if my speech will moderate and I will sound like a local before I realize it?

We had a great bike ride. The gravel road was bumpy, in some places it was like a washboard - a very jolting experience, to say the least. Also there were large potholes, almost never a problem when you are going up hill, which the road did as we traveled farther and farther away from civilization. We saw a white tailed deer bounding through a meadow, heard many, many birds, and a coyote ran across our path. The evening air was cooler and fresh and full of forest smells and sounds. We stopped for a brief moment beside the creek (pronounced 'crick' in Idaho) and studied the small patch of wild daisies growing beside the beautifully babbling water. Then we remounted our bikes and began the descent back to the highway. It was an exhilarating experience, almost like skiing! We were going so fast the wind was loud in our ears. I was a little out of my comfort zone on the gravel road - (remember the pot holes? At this speed they are a bit scary!) but didn't want to ride like a old woman so I kept on. Up ahead of me looking like a teenage kid (from the back at least) in his T-shirt and baggy jeans and backward ball cap, Dave yelled 'Yee Haw!' He was balanced on his bike, standing up and speeding down the road at breakneck speed - no helmet. We've come a long way from the city, baby.