Wallace, Idaho

The last 70 miles or so on I-90 were amazing, winding through the mountains, climbing several thousand feet and then zooming back down. One of the things they had us do in the riding course was make turns so fast and sharp that the foot pegs scraped on the ground, to teach us that you can never lean too far or turn too fast if you do it right. (If you get scared and panic you're likely to pull out of the lean or slam on the brakes, which is bad.) But it's not every day when I can actually ride like that; most highways are designed to avoid sharp turns, but with this one I guess the terrain wouldn't let them do that. I wasn't quite scraping the pegs - with all the gear on I'm not going to push it - but the sides of my tires got a good workout. Sports car drivers don't like to be passed by motorcycles in any conditions, but in turns like that they can't compete; if they try to turn too fast they slip out of their lane, but I kept a line through the middle of the left lane for the whole way.
All those turns made me very hungry, though, so I stopped in a sleepy little town on the Montana-Idaho border looking for food, but the two joints in the town with "cafe" signs were closed (permanently, it seemed, not just for the weekend). A few miles further on 90 I got to Wallace, Idaho, where there is one open food joint, a bar serving amazing ribs.
I-90 goes all the way to Seattle, so I'll see how far I get today.