the best bus ride ever

Possibly the best bus ride ever on Friday afternoon.

It did start off badly when I arrived and all the bike slots were taken...

...so I had to wait half an hour for the next bus.

A few stops into the ride, a man, he could have been as young as me or in his 50's - hard to tell, got on. The nametag on his blue workcoat said "Dalton" in cursive script. Definitely a blue collar worker, but very tucked and pressed. Heavy khaki work shirt under the monogrammed blue jacket. The shirt was tucked neatly into black Dickie work pants, and he had black, lace-up work boots on. He sat on the same bench as me, with an empty seat between us. He had good posture and he wore black sunglasses. Had this been a movie, Denzel Washington could have played this guy. A lady got on shortly afterwards. If Dalton was Denzel, this lady was straight from "Flashdance." Feathered hair. Half-finger, knitted mittens. She was in her late fifties, maybe younger 'cause she looked like a smoker, and she sat directly across from Dalton. She was carrying a large, brown, fake leather purse with lots of buckles and what looked like a broom handle that looked like it had been broken off about 3/4 of the way down. The tip was very sharp looking. As the bus crawled up Highway 17, the setting sun illuminated the entire cab of the bus, basically blinding all of us. Dalton, without saying a word, took off his sunglasses, and handed them across the aisle to Flashdance. She took them, without saying a word, and put them on. Then they started talking. Good job, Dalton...if you're into Flashdance.

A blind lady got on with her caretaker and reminded me to appreciate what I have, and that we only go around once. Make the most of it.

Another lady, with a spendy looking handbag and black wool overcoat who wouldn't lean back into the seat, asked me "Is that your bike out there?" When I said "yes" she said "What kind of shifters does it have?" as she squinted, like she was trying to see through the glare and figure it out. I said "None. It's a single speed." I think that confused her. When I got off the bus I followed one of my rules of bus-riding: to always say goodbye to people you talk to. So I acknowledged her before I got off in Felton.

I climbed the four hilly sections to Adria's house. That's a big deal because she lives way uphill and last week when I was feeling strong, I made it up all the hills on my single-speed with two full panniers. So that set the new standard and I didn't want to blow it today. About halfway up I was doing track-stands at the top of each stroke, my throat was fully constricted, and my forearms were on fire. But I made it.

When I got to the mountain house, Greta took me for a walk to the cemetery down the road. I noticed that these two graves look very different:

Greta ran around the open space the entire time.

"No farting on the bus."

A recent and wonderful life event has allowed me to explore another means of alternative transportation - the city bus. I now commute at least a few times a week, either one way or round-trip, between Santa Cruz and the mountain-town of Felton.

The bus is its own world. There are regulars on each route - both drivers and passengers. Here's what I've noticed so far about my bus-world:

1. Bus drivers are generally happy.
2. Bus riders help each other out. One lady needed change and four riders scrambled to make change for her so she could ride.
3. People like to sit in the same seats.
4. It's not unusual to smell body odor, cough drops, and marijuana on fellow passengers.
5. I like looking at all the different shoes people wear.
6. Buses are never early. This is good for me, because I tend to always be early for everything, so I will test myself and see how late I can (comfortably) arrive and still catch it.

I dig it 'cause for a dollar fifty, someone drives me where I need to go, and during the drive I can do whatever I want - read a book, write, watch traffic, look out the window at the city or the redwood trees, talk to strangers, and watch people.

One of the regulars I enjoy watching is a teenager with Down's Sydrome. He's high-functioning, pimple-faced, and smiles all the time. I think his name is Chris. Today he and I sat next to each other on the bench before boarding. Another regular walked by and Chris jumped up and extended his closed hand for a fist bump with the guy. The guy, beaming when he saw Chris' extended hand and big smile, said, "Hey, man, what's going on?" Chris said something in reply and the guy came back with "Another day another dollar, huh?" Chris didn't really get it but kept it alive with, "Yeah, yeah, another day another daughter." The guy started to correct him by saying, "No, Chris, "dollar""....but then stopped about halfway through.

After we boarded, the bus stopped in downtown Santa Cruz, in front of Trader Joe's. An old man, about five feet tall with tan, wrinkled skin and good posture boarded and sat next to me. As he sat, he greeted me in a French accent with, "Hello, young man." He was wearing a blazer, SAS shoes, a beret, and large glasses with rose colored lenses. He told me two jokes in the block-and-a-half that we rode together. I didn't know the punchline to either of them. As he pulled the stop-cord to tell the driver he wanted the bus to stop, he looked over his shoulder at me and said, "How do you entertain your girlfriend if you don't know good riddles?" Oh, if he only knew....

He was replaced with a middle-aged ex-hippie looking man with a large, unkept white moustache who sat next to Chris. They obviously knew each other from the bus from the way they were interacting. The ex-hippie guy was joking with Chris and said, "Hey, Chris, no farting on the bus!". Chris immediately replied with, "Too late!!" We all laughed (except the young girl in the pea coat reading Marie Claire magazine).