Even Google gave up, the map on the Crown's center screen flickering in endless recalculation. Second, it's a good thing they do because the roads are as tangled as a filibuster, with street names divided into quadrants, roundabouts that exit onto bridges, and constant construction. was, first, the speed limits are low, and people mostly abide by them. What stood out to me as an Angeleno driving in D.C. The Pentagon seemed to still be slugging, with regular posts cryptically requesting riders for "234" or offering directions to "the Pork Chop." I decided to check it out in hopes of decoding these secret messages. Most of my join requests and all my messages to admins went unanswered. There are many slug-line Facebook groups, but many are, ahem, sluggish in posting or fiercely protective of their community. With roughly 27,000 employees, large parking lots, and a Metrobus lane, the Pentagon was one of the early slugging destinations and one of the few active slug-line Facebook groups I was permitted to join. Roy Ritchie | Car and Driverįirst stop, the Pentagon. Legend has it that the tip of the Washington Monument’s shadow at rush hour points directly to a slug line. You just get in a stranger's car? There's no money? How? Why? I hopped a flight to D.C., picked up a pearl-white Toyota Crown with a back seat big enough for clandestine carpoolers, and set off in search of answers. Nothing is as irresistible as a mystery, especially one with car culture at its center, and at Car and Driver, we couldn't stop thinking about slugging. The slugging community seemed to disappear overnight, the Roanoke Colony of the 21st century. In the 2022 report, only 4 percent of carpools were slugs, and my initial online research came up against abandoned forums, bounced-back emails, and 404 web links. Then the pandemic hit, and the slug lines were salted. There were numerous pickup and drop-off spots and an active website detailing any route changes due to construction or traffic closures.
According to the Metropolitan Washington Council of Governments' 2019 State of the Commute report, 20 percent of all carpools were slugs. Had I set out to learn the secrets of the slugs a few years ago, it wouldn't have been much of a challenge. Slugging is symbiotic-no money changes hands, but all parties benefit. When the Virginia Department of Transportation partnered with the private toll-road operator Transurban in the early 2000s, multiperson vehicles were exempted from the expensive fees to encourage carpooling, thus keeping the fast lanes flowing free. Undeterred by the slander, the slugs claimed the nickname and the practice grew in popularity, developing set locations and traditions.
TRAFFIC CAMERA WASHINGTON DC DRIVERS
Eventually, the bus lines had more hopeful carpoolers than mass-transit riders, and the bus drivers began referring to the faux passengers as false coins, also known as slugs. Those early carpool lanes were strict, initially requiring four occupants (now three), so commuting drivers would fill their seats by swinging by the bus stop and sniping riders. freeway to implement a high-occupancy vehicle (HOV) lane. The origins of slugging are murky, buried somewhere in the smoggy '70s, when the Shirley Highway (I-395) from Virginia to D.C. Under cherry blossoms light as dreams and in the long shadow of the Washington Monument, I set out in search of slugs. My interest in visiting our nation's capital was to find out more about a covert society, an organization of carpoolers who use codes and word of mouth to work around D.C.'s notorious traffic jams and exorbitant tolls. Washington, D.C., may have more than most, but I wasn't there to dig up bodies, corporeal or political. From the June 2023 issue of Car and Driver.Įvery city has its secrets.
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