Some of my favorite travel memories are odd. For example, as we were headed out of Yellowstone we encountered this big boy at the side of the road. We had seen him on the way in, a memorable sight because you don’t often find bison traveling alone. There’s safety in numbers.

We pulled over at a safe-ish distance to snap a couple of photos and admire his beauty when he started to meander down the road. Toward us.

In case you’ve never seen one, they’re about the size of an Elantra.

And as he meandered and we sat there silently hoping he didn’t notice us, he slowly began moving toward the center of the road and then turned his head so that we could see the red of his eye. And we simultaneously, wordlessly, and with urgent certainty knew that we were in the absolute wrong place at the wrong time.

We are fortunate he did not ram the Jeep and send us both flying like rag dolls off the side of a mountain.

Our saving grace was that an older couple in a Buick interrupted the moment and he kept moving.

Holy cow. What a moment. I will be eternally grateful that this situation was resolved without incident. I told my friend later that my favorite trip memory was when the bison didn’t kill us. I said it as a joke but it’s true.

If you go, keep a safe distance from the wildlife and don’t try to pet the fluffy cows.

At least I got a story out of it.