Buscapades

My car has been sick the past few months, much like its owner. Whereas my illness(es) are treatable primarily with OTC medication such as Benadryl and Actifed (sinus medication) and the lovely $60 (co-pay—for a one-month supply!) Nasalcort AQ nasal spray, the vehicle has cost in the neighborhood of $2,000 in the past couple of months. About three weeks ago, the car started making a roaring sound (which I've only heard on cars with tire tread that was separating). Finally brought it in after only two weeks of ignoring it, it turns out to be the left-front-wheel hub assembly, with the right side near to exhaustion as well.

$900 to get this fixed.

It turns out that Buick/GM has created a lovely system whereby "things" can't be replaced any longer, only whole assemblies. I guess "things" are still being replaced, but the "things" are much more comprehensive in scope than they used to be; it's somewhat akin to having to replace an entire stove because an element burnt out. My belt idler "assembly" was nearly $400 on top of the $200 belts I had just replaced in November (so my car could pass inspection) because the idler pulley/belt tensioner seized, shredding the serpentine belt and snapping the supercharger belt in the process. And then there are the front brakes (no assembly needed—just routinely expensive) and passenger side windows (assembly required to the tune of roughly $400 each). And let's not forget labor.

GM has to make money somehow, right? [Editor's note: GM is not getting labor in this, only Goodyear.]

So, I decided to start taking the bus. I had jury duty downtown Wednesday, a re-scheduling of my appointed time two weeks earlier which I completely forgot until it was too late to get down there. Wednesday, then, was to be my inaugural bus riding. I really hate driving downtown: I don't know my way around, and parking is horrendously expensive unless I park at a cheap lot blocks away from where I need to be. I learned that lesson all too hard. So, the bus it is for a while.

Wednesday, I leave work, catch the bus. Things are going great. A bus comes right by my apartment both ways, so I'm all set. I get to the stop where I have to transfer at 6:45 pm, which is plenty of time before the 7:01 bus is due. Note that this is the last bus of the day for this route, so I'm quite happy that my usual procrastination and tardiness did not kick in. My self-adulation quickly diminished by 7:22. I called Metro, and there were no more buses that day. I didn't relish walking home, but with a quick prayer and a lot of courage, I began walking home. Thirty-four minutes later, dodging cars where the bushes encroached upon the non-sidewalk clad easement of a very busy street, through some mud in my own apartment complex, I arrived home, not breathless, but slightly winded, and my shins and feet screaming for release. I'm guessing 1.5 miles, figuring I can walk about 3 mph at a steady clip, but I haven't actually marked it.

I found out the next day when I called Metro and actually got through to a person that the last bus of the day broke down, and they "couldn't" get another bus out. "Woudln't" is more likely, but I'm just one guy in the "rich" part of town, so who am I to complain, right?

Thursday night is normally small group night, but we finished the book we were studying and decided to meet for dinner at a restaurant. I'm frantically trying to figure out how I'm going to get there, or get to the normal place where we meet. To get to the normal place, I would have to leave work about 4:30, take a bus DOWNTOWN, wait for an hour or so until around 6:00, then ride all over the city to get NEAR the young woman's apartment about 7:30. This is the pain of bus ridership, that sometimes, you can't get there from here. At least not without some major sacrifices in time and, apparently, work. I did realize that to get to the restaurant at least, the main road does have a bus route which I can get to. So, checking times and all, I figure I'm in pretty good shape (well, not me personally—I'm in terrible shape). This plan actually works out well, so I'm more confident in my busing.

Friday gloomed with hope that despite the weather, it'd still be manageable. I decided I needed to change my schedule at work to accomodate the bus schedule, which was fine. Rain poured down from around 2:30 to nearly 4:00, then a heavy drizzle for the next hour. By 5:45, when it was time for me to leave, a gentle mist fell upon everything, enough to let you know it was there, but not enough for an umbrella or anything. I caught the bus, and we sat in traffic. For a long time. I was not in panic mode yet, as even if I missed the 6:30 bus, there was still the 7:01 to come, provided it didn't break down or anything.

Suddenly, the bus turned right. Someone yelled out, "Where are you going? STOP!", echoing my sentiments completely. Little did I know that there are AT LEAST 2 routes with the same number that mostly go down Westheimer. I had chosen poorly. As they say of the law, ignorance is no excuse. So, we got off and headed to the next stop. It now being 6:40, I'm wondering if I will make it in time to the final stop, roughly 4 or 5 (long) blocks away. I keep checking for buses that will take me to that transfer, but none are forthcoming. The mist is heavier; my jacket is looking damp. Three more Westheimer buses show up, but they all make that same turn. I'm walking fast, running when I can, aching all the way. I get to the point where I just have to stop for a minute to give my knees (the main reason I can't run) a break before they do break. I push through the pain walking.

A block away from the transfer spot, the connecting bus turns onto Westheimer and zooms down the road toward the spot impossible for me to reach before it does. I nearly collapse in tears. I call a couple of people to see if they can rescue a poor white man. My friend Clay (thanks Clay) comes to my rescue, but he's still at work and will take a while. So I go into Wendy's to eat something while I wait for Clay. He arrives, gets some food and sits down across from me. I say, "There's the 19 bus". [The 19 is the connecting bus.] Mind you, I say this in the middle of a sentence, and it fits in with what I'm saying and makes sense and is humorous. Clay laughs, and then I say, "No, look, there's the 19 bus right there!" as I point to it through the windows. The bus I saw right at 7 and nearly caused my collapse was the 6:30 bus, and the 7:01 bus showed up at 7:38. We both laughed heartily.

Saturday, my father insisted that I take my car in to be fixed. Which I did. I still need to be able to go Wal-Mart at night, and now I can get to my small group on Thursdays. And to church on Saturday and Sunday. Need to do some clocking to see what those distances actually are.

Despite all of this, I will probably continue with the bus. It is cheaper (provided I get the schedules down), and the occasional walking will not hurt me (a thousand more days of it, and I might be noticeably smaller). Besides, I read nearly 300 pages. I really miss reading in bulk.