Get on the bus
As much as I can, I ride the bus to work. Rare is the day I have to get in a car and drive. I leave the house a little before 8:00 each morning, bike downtown, and hop on the bus. I get to work before 9:00. I could make the trip in about 20 minutes via car, if I wished, but I don't. I doubt I ever will.
I initially had a negative opinion of having to commute to work. I wanted to live by where I worked and work by where I lived. But until now, I had equated the word commute with "to travel by car." I had even shuddered at the prospect of a 40-minute bus ride back in September and turned down a job offer as a result.
By to commute by bus and to commute by car are two totally opposite things. The bus is social, open, and equal. The car is private, closed, and disproportionate. I enjoy the regular contact with the surly morning bus driver and the friendly afternoon operator. I like watching the regulars get in and off at their usual stops. It's fun watching the occasional rider wrestle with routes, timetables, and fares. And if I wish (and I usually do), I can put my feet up and read. Since starting in December, I've probably made it through 6 books and countless issues of The New Yorker. And because of this, I can come home and watch some pretty mindless TV and not feel too guilty about it because I know I at least pumped some good thoughts into my head earlier.
I wouldn't make it if I had to commute via car. Yes, there's the books-on-tape thing. But there's a mindlessness to it all that I can't overcome. There's nothing more depressing than a landscape designed solely around the automobile. A highway full of cars is the emptiest place on earth. It's a festering wound that never heals.
This is partially in response to this, for which words fail to describe the short-sightedness of those in power. But it's also an appreciation of this city, which manages to find a way to keep the buses rolling in these distressed times.