Monday, June 20, 2005

Desert

It's so open that anything under 80 feels likes walking speed. Unfortunately, the speed limits are still the same.
This photo is close to the mental image I get when I hear the word "desert." Baking hot, high speed, radar traps, and roadside collections so funky you think you're hallucinating in the heat. After I took a few photos, the highway patrolman came over to chat. I wanted to know about his radar equipment, and he asked me about my trip. It was a funny conversation between two friendly adversaries.

He's in a world of pain if he makes a mistake.
We passed a terrible wreck yesterday morning, what looked like a head-on impact between a car and a motorcycle. One of them must have drifted over the centerline, and there were bits and pieces of both vehicles all over the road. It wouldn't have mattered in that wreck, but nobody in Arizona seems to wear helmets or gloves, let alone a set of leathers. This guy wasn't even wearing a shirt. He's not giving himself much of a chance to make a mistake, and he's riding a fast bike.