27 May 2009


Very quiet morning ride on the 8:36am 66N. Another rider and I claimed first passenger rights at McClintock and Guadalupe and only four others got on or off before I left the bus at ASU.

At Southern, a man boarded with a motorized, oversized Razr-like scooter. Reading, I didn't notice him until he sat near me and the aroma of cigarette smoke rose from around him and filled the back area of the bus - whew! He and another rider exchanged conversation and, from what I heard, the man with the scooter suffers from emphysema and needs the scooter to help him get about. He reeked of cigarette smoke yet spoke of being "on disability" because of breathing problems.

He got off at Broadway and I watched as he unbent his scooter and motored off down the street. It seemed a good thing that he didn't need a wheelchair and oxygen; however, I don't understand an emphysema diagnosis, disability and continued smoking.

19 May 2009


A recent comment serves as a well-needed reminder that my blogging stalled. I take the 8:30am 66N in the mornings, and although "regular" riders fill the bus, it lacks the panache of those early days when Mark and Bill and Dave and I owned the back and chatted non-stop all the way to ASU. I need to re-focus and look elsewhere for inspiration. When I first started riding - pre bus gang - anything and everything about the bus fascinated me. Noises, drivers, maneuvers, passengers, etc., etc., etc. Perhaps a return to the early observational innocence might pull me out of the bus blogging doldrums.

Another problem also exists. Today's image reflects the newest love of my life - my iPhone. I use a neat little app called "Stanza" to read books on the bus. Work and disease render my vision less than perfect, making traditional book reading an absolute chore. With Stanza, the book is online, travels with me and I can reduce or enlarge the text to match the current state of my vision. It automatically bookmarks my spot and re-opens to that page when I re-start. The downside - I get so lost in my reading, I forget to observe bus events. I can't tell you how many times I nearly miss getting off the bus. The other night I made it only because someone else got off at the same stop and I looked up when the doors opened. Recognizing my stop, I hollered at the driver to "wait a minute, please" as I gathered myself together to get off the bus.

My pleasure at reading on the bus can't be measured, but it certainly causes problems for writing about the bus.