I was visiting the Shenandoah National Park website, trying to time my next visit appropriately to see the Mountain Laurel in bloom, when I realized I never shared a funny story with y'all that happened during my last visit.
It was in the gift shop at the visitor's center.
I love gifts shops at national parks, by the way. They always have such a nice mix of really awesome and really kitschy stuff. Not to mention the obligatory T-shirts and sweatshirts, which I love. And postcards. You gotta love postcards.
While I was moseying through the little gift shop, I overheard a conversation between a tourist from somewhere in the UK and the local, older lady that was manning the cash register. He said something about the speed limit (only 35 mph) and how he'd heard that it was strictly enforced. She agreed, telling him that there are a lot of animals in the park. That's why the rangers patrol so much.
"But," she said in her twangy Virginia accent, "we don't get much people speeding through here anyway. Except maybe for those young kids flying through here on their crock rotchets. We get a lot of those sometimes."
No, that wasn't a typo. She said CROCK ROTCHETS. And didn't skip a beat in her conversation.
It was cute. I couldn't help but wonder if the tourist returned home and told all of his friends, "You know, in the US they call those things crock rotchets, not crotch rockets!"
While searching for a picture to accompany this post (because picture-less posts are just boring), I found the image shown below, which I just had to share...
My search terms, by the way, were "crotch rocket."
Not crock rotchet.
Even if that is what I now think and/or say whenever I have an occasion to focus on sport bikes.
And yes, I know that's more of a crotch bullet. But still. It made me smile. I hope it had the same effect on you.