Grangeville, ID. A town that means little to most people, but I will remember it as the beginning of one of the wildest rides yet. I got dropped off at an intersection but needed to hike a bit further to a highway junction. As I walked along the side of the road, Im looking up ahead for a good spot to stick out my thumb. As cars speed by in a frenzy of whizzes, I hear a low growl and putter. A guy on a motorcycle drives up along side me, matching my pace.
"Where you going?" he inquires.
"Boise," I respond.
"Hop in," he invites me into the side car with a gesture.
We stop briefly to make acquaintance, to readjust and tie down the luggage and then off we went; he on his bike, me hovering inches off the road. We rode like that over ninety miles, along the Salmon River through Western Idaho, and it was a blast! What a way to experience the road! The hot wind blasts your face, as the landscape speeds by. Being out in the open the various smells of the road pass quickly but in bold renditions: fresh cut alfalfa to fresh laid asphalt, cow manure, bone-dry rock, and the cool moist air of river rapids. We stopped here and there at the overlooks and got a bite to eat before parting ways; him to the West, me to the East heading to Boise via McCall.