Some mornings I’ll be out bicycling, running, or walking. That or, what is more likely, I’ll simply be sitting on the front porch sipping coffee while watching others bicycling, running, or walking.
Recently I was surprised by the sudden appearance of a large green and white vehicle. It was covered with windows, and the interior had seating for at least thirty, but oddly, there was only the driver inside.
The vehicle was a mystery until I experienced a mild form of PTSD, and an image from the past popped into my mind. I remembered that when we were kids, my brothers and I would frequently ride a similar vehicle. It was called the “city bus.”
Yes, that’s it! The green machine is a city bus. But what’s different about city buses nowadays is that they frequently contain no passengers. It’s like mass transportation minus the mass.
Riding on the bus during my childhood was not a comfortable experience. Prior to the development of air conditioning, all the windows would be open during the summer, allowing a cloud of black smoke to enter each time the bus accelerated.
I still get nauseous when I recall the diesel fumes engulfing the seating area near the rear of the bus, where the younger passengers always sat because it was the cool thing to do.
Why were the buses packed with passengers back in the day? Why would I as a youngster ride a city bus that was so crowded that I would often need to stand and grab hold of the overhead rack to keep from tumbling onto the lap of a perspiring, irritated-appearing older lady tightly clutching her purse?
First, it beat walking. Secondly, the old Schwinn one-speed bike most likely had a flat tire.
But there was another more fundamental reason: Mom didn’t drive, didn’t even have a driver’s license.
Now, there was a car available because Dad took the bus to work. He rode the bus because he hated to drive, parking downtown was a hassle and expensive… and he knew the car was safe at home because Mom didn’t drive!
