TRANSPORTATION DIARY: PUBLIC RIDES

A transportation diary clears up what is and what isn’t public transportation.

It’s a bus, or a train, not your mom’s mini van.

How many times have you counted on public transportation?

My first daily bus ride started in Philadelphia.

From two blocks north of city hall I rode through South Philly out to Oregon Avenue.

There I was, an Oregon guy in Philadelphia working on Oregon Avenue.

I almost didn’t get homesick for the woods and beaches and mountains.

The bus rolled through block after block of row houses where the mornings began with a lawn chair and a bottle of gin on the sidewalk.

But that’s not what I saw. I saw a cement beach and summer parties.

It was more than that. I know it was more than that, but I drew my line.

People were living their lives, I was living mine. They were all here way before me.

From my bus window it felt like being transported to another time and place.

The thing about living in a big city, a subway city, is being able to change up the rides.

From my bus line I could change to the Broad Street subway by walking a couple of blocks from my apartment.

If I wanted to go to West Philly I had a trolley at my disposal.

All in all the attention to public transportation made getting around town more convenient than driving and parking a car.

New York Subway

When I lived in Brooklyn I took the Double R to work.

Walked a block up the street, went down the stairs and caught a train packed with commuters who’d been doing it all their lives.

It felt like a laboratory of odd people with a common goal: get to work on time.

Everyday the same thing: down the block, down the stairs, hang on a strap, up the stairs and into the building.

It took me two days to feel like a regular, like I’d been there all my life, like my dad and I took the subway for Bring Your Son To Work Day.

In truth I never got over the feeling the New York subway was an extension of the Small World Ride at Disneyland.

Everyone rode the subway.

Tigard Transportation Diary

Way back when I started in this town I took the 12 bus into Portland and back home.

I got dropped off by the furniture store south of 217 and walked past Hall to Greenburg.

Back then Greenburg didn’t have sidewalks or very good light in the winter.

A group of people had become bus friends and turned the commute after work into a social event.

It was a party.

One of the young single women parked her car at the Barbur Transit Center.

I started getting off the bus with her for a ride home.

My wife was outside one evening and I introduced them.

In short time I was stopping for a drink with my new bus friend.

Not long after we made a family decision to buy another car.

That ended that party and concludes my public transportation diary.

I put in the time, rode the rails and roads, then became an I-5 commuter.

Do I miss my bus buddies?