Maggie Doherty

Although the outline of Chief Mountain was swallowed in a heavy bank of clouds last week as my family drove past Duck Lake to the Canadian border, we all had to sing the pinnacle line from Corb Lund’s country-western song “Little Foothills Heaven.” Seeing Chief Mountain is very much rendering prayer visible in the singer-songwriter’s anthem to the northern Rocky Mountains. We were glad to be back.

Despite being a northern woman with a body programmed to live above the 45th parallel, manifesting in a sturdy frame capable of enduring cold temperatures and a pale complexion that reddens in sunshine and wind, I look forward to summer like a kid.

While I am not a lawyer or judicial scholar, as a citizen infused with a zeal for civic duty, I do have passable knowledge of governing bodies and documents, from the U.S. Constitution to Montana’s own unique, progressive, and environmentally focused state constitution. However, I have yet to find a document that enshrines the “rights” of cars, chiefly those deployed on Kalispell’s Main Street for the purpose of dragging and hot-rodding weekly on Friday nights.