Crotch Rockets

Crotch Rockets, Main Street, Ellicott City, MD August 2004. Nikon D70.

Yesterday, while crawling home in the traffic at five to ten miles per hour on the circle of death (AKA Capitol Beltway), I was passed by a couple of crotch rockets. These were by no means legal passes, unless driving the dotted white line between cars and the solid white line of the shoulder is considered legal. The circle of death is deadly enough, hence my calling it the circle of death, but the guys that passed - actually buzzed by me - were really laughing in the face of Death and his second cousin, Serious Injury. Initially they pissed me off and a stream of obscenities and not-so-nice-names eminated from my pie hole. Then I thought... what if I was one of those guys facing the sluggish traffic of rush hour, wouldn't I be doing the same thing? The only honest answer I had is... yes, why yes I would. It turns out that I was not so much angry at these crotch rocket jockeys as I was jealous of their mobility and freedom to move through and around the tortoise-like traffic of Washington, DC. Good thing I don't own a motorcycle, and I still don't want one. Now an Imperial 74-2 Speeder Bike from Star Wars... that would rule!