Why I Ride

When I first told people I ride the bus to and from work, I received a lot of shocked looks and surprised laughter. “You have a car, don't you?” Well yes I do, but I had an awful commute last year and I am just so happy to be free of that. “Are you sure you don't want a ride home?” No, thank you. I really do enjoy taking the bus. That answer generally receives even more shocked looks. But the truth is, I really do enjoy my bus rides. A recent running magazine had an article about how runners have the motivation to run and stick with it. The article references three contributing factors, which I believe relate to most behavior changes. These factors are competence, relatedness, and autonomy.

Now five months deep into my bus-riding endeavor, I certainly feel a level of competence. I am familiar with the bus routes. I can plan a trip if I want. I know the proper bus procedures. It didn't start out the way, of course. Since I take one of three morning buses, it took a few weeks before I knew when to expect a bus. It took some time before I learned that the 7:16 bus will get me to work with time to spare before an 8:00 am meeting, but the 7:34 bus would get me there late. I learned that for whatever reason, the 7:34 bus drivers never last in that spot and having a different bus driver every day leads to very inconsistent arrival times. And the 7:56 bus is the perfect bus when I don't feel I need much prep time before the school day starts and I choose to spend some extra relaxation time at home.

Still, there is more to riding the bus than knowing the bus times. There is a bus etiquette that I was unaware of prior to being yelled at by two bus drivers. The first was an afternoon bus, the 5:10, driven by a large black boisterous woman. The first time I took the bus, I sat on the bench at the bus stop. That's what the benches are there for, aren't they? Apparently not. I noticed the bus just in time and jumped up to wave her down. She stopped and let me board, but not without some reprimand. “I almost passed you! I can't see you behind that tree!” Well, I didn't see you either, I politely replied. Lesson #1 – as small as Phoenix trees may be, I am smaller. There was also the time where I really did almost miss the bus. As I was walking to the bus stop in the afternoon, I realized the 4:10 bus was already coming. I tried to make eye contact with the bus driver and the bus seemed to slow down. I waved to the bus, hoping to encourage this slowing. Just as I completed my wave, the bus passed right by my bus stop, forcing me to sprint down the road in hopes to make it to the next bus stop. This was a major intersection, so I knew I had red lights and other bus-riders to help me out. I zipped across the pedestrian crosswalk, keeping my fingers crossed that there weren't any cars planning to make a right turn at that particular moment. Just as the bus stopped to allow some passengers to board the bus, I breathlessly arrived at the bus door. The middle-aged man said with a scowl on his face, “Why'd you wave and then run?!” Lesson #2 – waving implies “move along.” It does not imply “please stop for me!”
Believe it or not, riding the bus has also brought about a sense of relatedness. I have discovered that I love the company of my bus drivers and fellow bus-riders. I feel such a great sense of community from taking the bus. When I board my morning bus, I look forward to the greeting from the 7:16 and 7:56 drivers who now know me as a regular (I even gave one of them Christmas cookies). I enjoy occasionally being engaged in random conversations with someone sitting nearby. And even if we sit in silence, I take pleasure in people-watching and keeping track of other regulars on the bus.

It didn't take long for me to feel invited into the bus community. The next time I took the 5:10 bus, the same lady was all smiles. She commented that the tree was gone. “Did you call and get that done?” Nope. I have nicknamed her the tree lady. I like to nickname my bus drivers. And what about that other grumpy driver? The next time I took that bus, I happened to be running late again. I ran to catch the bus, all the while refraining from a wave or gesture of any kind. The driver stopped at the next stop to let me on. “You don't need to chase me,” he chuckled. “I don't play hard to get.”

Riding the bus has also helped me get to know other community members, such as the crossing guards at my school. There's Tom, who looks worn from years of life but still seems to be happy with the way things are going. The newer guy is Keith, a younger man who has a child attending our school. The three of us make our small talk and our morning greetings. I've had to ask assistance of them once or twice (more on that some other time). I gave them Christmas cookies too. Recently, while sitting in one of those endless IEP meetings, Keith passed by the window as he picked up his reflective vest before going outside for crossing duty. As I raised my head, I made eye contact and he waved. The speech pathologist sitting next to me awkwardly waved back. I looked over to him. He wasn't waving at you. He was waving at me. “Oh, well I think he has a crush on you.” I chuckled at that remark and explained that he is my crossing guard friend. And then we returned our focus to counting down the minutes until the end of the IEP.

Finally, I have autonomy in my decision to ride the bus. After too many hours spent cooped up in a car for my work-commute, I made it a goal to find a new job that would allow me other options. Ideally, I wanted to be able to walk or ride my bike. However, this has worked out perfectly for me. The bus picks me up right outside my apartment complex and drops me off nice and close to school. The ride takes no more than ten minutes longer than driving would and I get to spend that time doing something other than staring at the bumper in front of me. I have even taken the bus when it's not convenient. I've walked two miles to a Friday afternoon staff development and then caught a different bus home. I don't always take the bus, but I know it is always a choice. And most of the time, I choose it. I believe knowing that we have options is a key to being content with life. Even more importantly, try out the options that those around us have ignored. In my case, I decided to become a bus rider. I never thought I'd enjoy it as much as I do.

That, in a nutshell, is my life on the bus. I hope to continue this blog with tidbits here and there that go along with my exciting bus-life.

Introduction

At 7:16 this morning, I fretted about running late. I threw my backpack onto my shoulder, bundled up for the unusually chilly Phoenix weather (it was in the 50's!), and headed out the door. I stopped just long enough to give Craig a kiss goodbye, but turned down a hug for fear that this would occupy too much time. Taking the steps two at a time and cutting across the grass, I kept my eye on the pedestrian gate to make sure I still had some seconds to spare. My gate-key flew out of my jacket pocket and into the lock. With a turn of the key and a few steps forward, I arrived at the bus stop. About one minute later, the bus came around the bend and I was once again relieved to have success in my daily plan. Leaving my apartment at the same time that the bus is due to leave the previous major stop works perfectly.
“Back to work?” the bus driver inquired as I gently slipped my 30-day pass into the ticket machine. The bus driver and I made a minute or two of small talk before I headed to my seat. In my backpack, I usually have some knitting to work on or a book to read. However, today is my first day back to teaching after a restful 2-week winter break so I opted for taking the 25 minutes to get myself in focus and to enjoy the ride.