From San Francisco: "MUNI driver gives the gift of patience," by Shoshannah (via Muni Diaries)

I am lucky to live close enough to my job downtown where I can walk to work most days. But yesterday, the Monday before Christmas, I had early morning appointment in Laurel Village. When I was boarding the 2-Clement, an elderly man with a cane was slowly making his way to the bus—it was obvious he wanted to get on the bus, too. (Read more here.)

From Albuquerque! "Retired Driver Charlie Maes Continues 41 Year Christmas Eve Tradition of Jokes, Facts and Carols." (City of Albuquerque > Transit > News)

Although he retired in 2000 after 27 years as a bus driver, Charlie Maes still loves to come to the Albuquerque Convention Center every Christmas Eve and jump on two of the Luminaria Tours.  And he continues a tradition that has made him famous among tour goers for his jokes, patter and Christmas carol singing. (Read more here.)

From a description of Seoul, South Korea, “the world’s most wired city,” by Lauren Collins

Passengers watched live television, via DMB [Digital Multimedia Broadcasting, a digital transmission technology developed in South Korea], and read comic books, the best of which were now available exclusively through the Internet search providers who commissioned them. Trains arrived every ninety seconds, announced by piped-in birdsong. On the platforms were kiosks with forty-six-inch touchscreens. They showed movie trailers, monitored exchange rates, dispensed coupons, and made restaurant recommendations, Nearby, a resident could order groceries from a virtual supermarket by scanning QR codes [Quick Response Codes, a matrix barcode] that corresponded to the desired items, which would be delivered to his house in a matter of hours. A commuter who needed to connect to a bus could check the availability -- not on a bus schedule but on a digital map that charted buses in real time. Even though millions of people rode buses, you hardly ever saw crowds waiting at a bus stop.

Lauren Collins, from her article “The Love App: Romance in the world’s most wired city,” The New Yorker, November 25, 2013, p. 88.

From San Francisco: "Bus Report #780," by Rachel

Early, early in the morning, and cold.
As I trudged up my street I saw my 38 Geary approaching and knew I'd miss it, ah well, there would be another one along soon.
But wait! The driver slowed down and pulled in to my stop, caught my eye from across the street and smiled.

(Read more here.)

Desert Bus For Hope 2013

This year’s Desert Bus For Hope event ran for 6 days and 11 hours and raised $523,500.00! You can read how this “most successful charity gaming marathon in the world” works, and how it has grown over the last 7 years, right here. The Desert Bus was featured in the Christmas 2010 Bus Story # 215.  

From San Francisco: "Honor SF Muni Bus Driver 833," by designtherevolution

Today I had one of the coolest experiences I have ever had riding Muni. The driver kept everyone informed of all delays. “we have one car ahead of us… their doors are closing. We’ll be moving in 5 to 10 seconds” he said, and he was right. (Read more here.)

From Richmond, Virginia: "Should Have Taken the Bus!" by Jim Somerville

I saw Andrew Terry at the Hope in the Cities luncheon yesterday. Andrew is working to bring rapid transit to Richmond, and he recently asked a room full of people if any of us would ride the new “super bus” if it came to the city.

I raised my hand. (Read more here.)

From "in Country" Maui, Hawaii: "The Wheels on the Bus: My kids use public transportation - this does not make me a bad parent," by Daffodil Campbell

"You guys have to take the bus today" I informed them as they were sitting on the couch playing Minecraft this morning. They looked up: one unconcerned, the other dismayed.

"Mama, I don't want to ride the bus." (Read more here.)

From San Francisco: "Bus Report #775," by Rachel

This morning's commute was as ordinary as ever, until we got to Oak and Fillmore, and then it was anything but.
Someone in the back of the bus let our a loud roar, a noise that grabbed everyone's attention for a moment.
A second later, the woman sitting behind me said, "Someone's having a seizure."

(Read more here.)

from “Bay Watched: How San Francisco’s new entrepreneurial culture is changing the country," by Nathan Heller

In June, I met with Kyle Kirchhoff, who had recently co-founded a transportation startup called Leap Transit. San Francisco’s public-transportation system, known as Muni, is a notorious mess, and Leap has tried to take some of the burden off: it launched a private shuttle, with a six-dollar fare (the Muni fare is two), to cover the same route as the overcrowded 30X Marina Express. Leap buses have leather seats and Wi-Fi. Riders use their phones to pay and track the vehicles’ progress.

Kirchhoff met me at Taste Tea, a gong fu-style teahouse in San Francisco’s Hayes Valley. (He is there so often that, when he walks in, the credit-card app Square registers his iPhone’s presence and logs into his account.) I asked him how he got interested in buses. “We thought, Well, why can’t we solve this problem that exists here, that’s sitting right in front of us?” he told me. He wore a gray T-shirt and jeans, and sat cross-legged on some cushions on the seat of a bay window. His father worked for three decades as a salesman and manager at Hewlett-Packard, and, growing up, he dreamed of a similar path. But when he finally made it to a big company he was disillusioned. What was missing, he thought, was imagination and a free spirit. Too much of American working culture was about the profit.

Take buses. “The ones that are made over in Europe, or Japan, they were just, like, awesome. They’re inspired.” American-made models, less so. “They didn’t start with ‘Hey, how can we make a really great bus?’ They started with ‘Hey, how can we make some money?’ That kind of mentality just really turned me off working on all of that.” A server came by with a tea tray and started making slow, soothing pouring motions from vessel to vessel. Flute music simpered in the background.

Leap, like Lyft, is an example of the helpful, Mr. Fix-It style of local techie culture. If a system isn’t working well, your neighborhood entrepreneur will build a better one. The approach has clear benefits for transportation, but it has risks, too. Say you’re a lawyer who rides the Muni bus. You hate it. It is overcrowded. It is always late. Fed up, you use your legal expertise to lobby an agency to get the route fixed. And the service gets better for all riders: the schoolkid, the homeless alcoholic, the elderly Chinese woman who speaks no English. None of them could have lobbied for a better bus on their own; your self-interested efforts have redounded to the collective benefit. Now the peeved lawyer can just take Leap. That is great for him. But it is less good for the elderly Chinese woman, who loses her civic advocate. Providing an escape valve for a system’s strongest users lessens the pressure for change.

Kirchhoff saw things differently. Part of the reason the Muni bus was bad, he said, was that there was no market competition to make it better. “I think choice is a wonderful thing, and I think that competition is a good thing, too,” he told me. “Not competition in the sense like ‘Hey, we’re trying to put you out of business’ but ‘Hey, we’re bringing something else to the table, and we’ve got some different ideas about how things work.’ ”

If the old activism focussed on public infrastructure, the new model takes privatization as its premise. 

Nathan Heller, from his article “Bay Watched: How San Francisco’s new entrepreneurial culture is changing the country,” The New Yorker, October 14, 2013.

From somewhere between Lindenwold and Absecon, New Jersey: "A Bus Story," by Stephanie Patterson

I don’t drive so I never travel alone. I always share my commuting time with the masses that make up mass transportation or a cab driver.

This is a tale from a time of my most storied commutes. (Read more here.)

From Salt Lake City: "Bike Ride Of The Century," from BUSNINJA

It all started on the 205 the other day when I was on my way home from work.  I was looking forward to a nice, calm evening ride on the 205, such as I have become accustomed to over the past two years of occasionally using the 205 to get home from work.  I didn't get it.

At about 16th South, a man wanted to get on the bus with his bike.  The two racks in front of the bus (it wasn't a '13) were already full, so the bus driver told him he had to wait for the next one.

(Read the whole story here.)

From Minneapolis: "Bus Stop: 24th and Nicollet; or Turns Out, I Look Pretty Suspicious," by Pearl Vork-Zambory

I’d gone to George’s directly after work, part of one of those “I need to see you” aspects of a true friendship; and now, the light about 30 minutes from failing, I am standing on the corner, ready to go home.

I take a good look around.

This is certainly a savory little area, I think.

(Read more here.)

From Seattle: "Bus talk," by Kristianne

Like several things in Seattle, including the weather, bus drivers are passive aggressive. After a recent downtown shooting, in which a bus driver was hurt, King County Metro reminded their employees that it was not their responsibility to police people. In other words, don’t fight with anyone who wants to fight about the bus fare. But, bus drivers are still seen as an authority figure to bus passengers. The interaction gets funny sometimes. (Read more here.)

From Havana, Cuba: "Rise in Havana Bus Fares in the Wind," by Rogelio Manuel Díaz Moreno

I have the impression that it won’t be long before there’s a new rise in the price of public transportation in Havana.

The formal price of a ticket on the urban buses is 40 cents (of a peso), in the so-called national currency.  Given the equivalent in US money – about 2 cents – this price may seem infinitesimally small, until you also look at the dollar value of what a Cuban worker receives as a salary: about 20 dollars monthly. (Read more here.)

From Woodbridge, Virginia: "The Drive To Do Good" (Not Always Right)

(I am a habitual rider of the local transit system that covers DC metro and northern VA. I board the bus to see a rider verbally assaulting the bus driver.)

Rider: “I don’t care about your timeline route. You were supposed to go to [street] to drop me off 45 minutes ago. That last driver missed my stop and your operator assured me I would be home on this bus by 6:25!”

Driver: “Ma’am, I cannot directly deviate from my route until I’m closer to your stop. To deviate now would be to leave any other potential riders along the route stranded in the cold. I am truly sorry that you are having a bad evening due to a coworker, and I’ll do what I can.”

(Read more here.)

From Richmond, Virginia: "Wheels on the Bus," by Karen

Of all the reasons to go to the RVA Street art Festival, and there are many, one of the very best is oral history.

Since this year's event is happening at the former GRTC bus depot, the exhibit is a natural.

(Read more here.)

From Dili, Timor-Leste: "the night bus to Dili," by Asakiyume

Every morning, a bus leaves the market in Dili, Timor-Leste's capital, and six hours later it arrives in Ainaro. Ainaro is only 70 miles away, but the road is rough and mountainous. (Read more here.)

From NYC: "Conversations On The Fifth Avenue Bus," by Susan Willet Bird

It's always interesting to see who you might meet on the bus.  Yesterday I talked with a woman I've nodded to many times as we passed each other jogging around the Central Park reservoir in early mornings.


It took us a minute to recognize each other yesterday, since each of us was dressed for work, not in our usual jogging shorts.  Once we started talking, I realized I had the privilege of making a remarkable new friend who comes from a fascinating family.

(Read more here.)

From Denver: "A Man And His Bird..." by tabdeans

The man was large, looked to be about 30 or so, and paced back and forth behind the bus stop shelter. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, waiting for him to swoop in when the bus pulled up and butt in line.

(Read the whole story here.)

From Portland, Oregon: "Here? No? Here?" [a Top Ten Bus Stories nominee], by Bill Reagan (posted on Trimet Diaries)

The man waiting on the corner had no way of knowing that the young woman’s bus ride had been thoroughly exasperating. He would have understood her exuberant leap from the bus if he had known how she spent the entire ride from downtown wondering if the next stop was hers, or the next, unsure if she was even close, wishing someone on the #35 spoke Japanese. But he didn’t know, and that’s why he got the wrong idea.

(Read more here.)

From Herriman, Utah: "Because I'm Selfish," by Greg Platt

I've met a lot of people who ride transit.  It kind of comes with the territory of riding transit.

Some people ride because of Global Warming. Or Global Climate Change. Or because Al Gore has them scared, I don't know. (I could have the discussion about the impact of humans on the global environment; I even teach a class where we discuss the relative merits of each side of the argument; this is not that discussion).

I admire those people. They see a problem, they see something they can do about it, and they do it. I find that laudable.

But that's not why I ride.

(Read more here.)

From Silicon Valley: "Diary," by Rebecca Solnit (The London Review of Books)

The buses roll up to San Francisco’s bus stops in the morning and evening, but they are unmarked, or nearly so, and not for the public. They have no signs or have discreet acronyms on the front windshield, and because they also have no rear doors they ingest and disgorge their passengers slowly, while the brightly lit funky orange public buses wait behind them. The luxury coach passengers ride for free and many take out their laptops and begin their work day on board; there is of course wifi. Most of them are gleaming white, with dark-tinted windows, like limousines, and some days I think of them as the spaceships on which our alien overlords have landed to rule over us.

(Read more here.)

From San Francisco: from kateohclock on Tumblr

They say you aren’t a New Yorker until you’ve cried on the subway without caring about what people think about you.

(See more here.)

From Winnipeg, Canada: "Driving Miss Crazy." (Not Always Right)

Lady: “Oof! Do you mind?! You’re so awful!”

Bus Driver: “I’m sorry, ma’am? What’s the problem?”

Lady: “You keep starting and stopping the bus! I keep falling forward and backward, and it’s taking so long for me to get home. It’s getting dark!”

(Read more here.)

From Portland, Oregon: "TriMet surprise party: Rider Waldo Johnson celebrates 100th birthday on bus," by Joseph Rose for The Oregonian

It makes sense that Waldo Johnson's friends decided to throw him a surprise party on a bus for his 100th birthday.

Johnson has been a regular public-transit rider in Portland for more years than TriMet has existed (that would be 44).

(Read more here.)

From Albuquerque! "Just Being Together," by americanwolf

Big Black Beautiful Bee lied about the color of her eyes, but told truth of the coming rain, for who better a meteorologist than the homeless? (Read more here.)

From San Francisco: "Bus Report #751," by Rachel

There were a lot of brokenhearted passengers on the 22 Fillmore last week, I imagine. (Read more here.)

From Seattle: "A Biting Wit," by Richard Isherman

Two women have their heads close and are earnestly talking about something. One is middle aged, well dressed and carries herself with confidence. It is the other who grabs my attention.

(Read the whole story here.)

From Portland, Oregon: "Here Comes A Regular," by Bill Reagan (posted on Trimet Diaries)

Imagine seeing someone 600 times and not saying hello. 600 times, often sitting close enough to hand them a pen without either of you having to stand up, that close for 20 minutes as a time, and still never saying hello. (Read more here.)

From Edinburgh, Scotland: "How to stop a bus in the rain" [a Top Ten Bus Stories nominee]. (Not Reading On the Bus)

A few moments later a woman stepped daintily into the road and walked up the street at the bus, flourishing her umbrella and having at the number 29 like Errol Flynn in drag. The bus driver did the unheard of and opened his doors between bus stops, either in admiration, or because he did not wish to have to explain squashed septuagenerian on his paintwork.

(Read the whole story here.)

From Portland, Oregon: "My Interloper," by nickareeno

The plan went smoothly.  I reached the busstop with my drink as the bus hove into sight three stops away.

A car slowed on the far side of the street.  The driver rolled down the window and waved at me.

"I have to talk to you."

(Read the whole story here.)

From Denver: "Your money's no good here," by tabdeans

Throughout my life I have had men buy me drinks, dinner and gifts. But today a curious thing happened with a gentleman on the 52 bus. (Read more here.)

From Madison County, Alabama: "“Epilogue," by Tom Brandon

Well, the Cheese Wagon, Big Yellow Banana or whatever the students call it has been swept, washed and parked for the summer. (Read more here.)

From Boston: "Panhandlers of Harvard Square: An essay in oil paintings, interviews," by Marc Clamage for the Boston Globe Magazine

A few years ago, I began to notice that the panhandlers I’d been seeing near my workplace in Harvard Square seemed more plentiful, younger, more troubled. There were lots of new “passing through, need food” signs, and even whole families begging — some are still there. I used to hurry by them, but then I began to stop. Each face tells a story, I realized, and I would try to capture as many as I could through a series of oil paintings. (Read more here.)

From Seattle: "On busing and baby sharing," by Carla Saulter (aka BusChick)

Yesterday, after tiring of the wait for my six-, then eight-, then ten-, then twelve-minute late 27, I resorted to the 4. I was immediately glad I did, despite the fact that the bus was (per usual) extra crowded, and I ended up standing in the no man’s land with poor pole access.

You see, Smooth Jazz was at the wheel.

(Read more here.)

From Denver: "Haunted by the young," by tabdeans

I made the tragic mistake of boarding the 65 bus in the early afternoon, just as the junior high and high schools were letting out. (Read more here.)

From Provo, Utah: "Reptile," by BUSNINJA

As I was walking from the TRAX platform at Milcreek onto the bus platform, I heard a woman behind me start speaking in a projecting voice.

I don't know if you know this,

(she said)

but I used to be a reptile.

(Read the whole story here.)

From San Francisco: "22-Fillmore en español." (Muni Diaries)

Muni rider Erin overheard a charming exchange of cultures and languages on the 22-Fillmore the other night.

On the 22 to the Richmond late Saturday night, sitting next to thirty-something Hispanic woman. Twenty-something Chinese couple and white male friend get on the bus.

(Read more here.)

From Seattle: "Small Things," by Richard Isherman

He looks as out of place as a water buffalo cooking on the line at the French Laundry. A colossus, he must bend to stand on the bus, and the breadth of him fills the space between the rows of seats. (Read more here.)

From Philadelphia: "Philadelphian Jumps On Tracks To Help Fallen Man," by Joann Loviglio and Kathy Matheson for the Associated Press

A recovering drug addict with a long rap sheet who was hailed as a hero for jumping onto subway tracks to rescue a man who walked off a platform deflected the praise Friday by saying he was just doing the "right thing." (Read more here.)

From Edinburgh, Scotland: "The last Etruscan" [a Top Ten Bus Stories nominee]. (Not Reading On the Bus)

For many weeks, before Christmas, there was a young woman who got on the bus a few stops along from me who, despite her softly rounded features, neat plaits and pink hair clips, always seemed regally self-possessed.  Perhaps it was something in the straight-shouldered way she carried herself, or her complete lack of interest in the other passengers.

Her interest was always outside the bus, at least for the first few yards, when she would be looking intently out the window for the skinny young man with the sparse moustache who would be waiting at the B&B just along the road from the bus stop.  On dry days he would be on the steps; if the weather was very wet, he would be standing inside, looking out the bay window with its small sign hanging from a chain that always said: ‘vacancies’.

(Read more here.)

From Madison County, Alabama: "“The Older Woman," by Tom Brandon

When she stepped onto the bus for the first time it was like a new Ferrari driving onto a used car lot, all eyes were immediately focused on her. A high school girl, on a bus with elementary school boys. (Read more here.)

From NYC: "We Found Our Son in the Subway," by Peter Mercurio (The New York Times)

The story of how Danny and I were married last July in a Manhattan courtroom, with our son, Kevin, beside us, began 12 years earlier, in a dark, damp subway station. (Read more here.)

From Silverwood, Michigan: "An open letter to the weird guy on my bus in 1986" [a Top Ten Bus Stories nominee], by Pony

Dear socially inept, odd smelling, greasy haired, slouching guy with a lazy eye, odd speech syntax and perpetually grease smeared glasses who was a senior when I was a sophomore and who arbitrarily got assigned to sit by me on the bus in 1986,

(Read more here.)

From Portland, Oregon: "So this is what crazy looks like" [a Top Ten Bus Stories nominee], by Bill Reagan (posted on Trimet Diaries)

As the train lurched and halted at the various tops, the woman addressed various people individually with a big smile and warm greeting, no apparent goal except to be friendly in tight quarters. These are the type of people a few of my friends imagine when they justify not riding public transit: rubbing elbows with “the great unwashed” (one friend’s quotation,) sudden conversations with people who put the strange in “stranger,” trapped in a box with someone eager to volunteer their opinions without prompting.

(Read the whole story here.)

From Seattle: "Dunk Tank," by Richard Isherman

I hopped on the shiny silver and red “C” line bus this morning and, because I have been so long absent, was unsure of what I might find. Or who. I cast about for familiar faces and, despite the crowd, everyone is new to me. Almost immediately, my attention is drawn to one of these new faces. He’s probably in his middle thirties and appears to be soaking wet. (Read more here.)

From San Francisco: "Best overheard MUNI conversation ever this week," by Matt Pine

A nicely dressed 40-something woman is riding the MUNI talking into her phone.

“Listen, I’m trying to move blocks around and schedule meetings.”

[…] — that means she listening to words I can’t hear, because that’s how phones work.

“Just how much coffee have you had?”

[…]

(Read the rest here.)

From Phoenix: "When a bus turns into a buss," by Dolores Tropiano for the Arizona Republic

"Find Your Match Month" has special meaning for several Phoenix residents.

The campaign is designed to help bring people together for alternative forms of commuting.

Allie Johnson of Phoenix actually met her husband Ben on Phoenix Bus Route No. 27.

He was driving the bus.

(Read more here.)

From Portland, Oregon: "A Heart of Pharmaceutical Grade Purity," by nicareeno

I swear, the nearly silent battleweariness that fills a Max train in the morning sometimes makes me wish Bob Hope would come back from the grave and do a set for the troops.

But there I was, and there we all were, not a spark of life in the whole car, except for one guy.  The situation was hopeless, the phenomenal sameness, the extraordinary absence of contact among riders.  Except for this one loose deuce.

(Read more here.)

From Edinburgh, Scotland: "Breaking the ice." (Not Reading On the Bus)

I used to occasionally see a woman at my old bus stop who always stood well away, almost around the corner.  She never stood any closer and always looked into the opposite direction, as if she either did not wish to see...or be seen.  She did not look like my idea of a misanthrope (somehow, I expect the signs of misanthropy to be etched upon the features, like suffering), but nor was it ever possible to make eye contact, never mind do that non-committal, half-nod that says, ‘I recognise you but let’s not invade each other’s space’ that we Edinburgh commuters seem to like to affect. (Read more here.)

From Vancouver: "Adventures on the short bus," by Kate Zimmerman

First, let’s acknowledge that the HandyDART is a wonderful invention and, for many, an absolute lifeline.

Then, let’s admit that given our druthers, few of us would choose to be in need of this door-to-door “shared-ride” service.

(Read more here.)

From San Francisco: "Bus Report # 725," by Rachel.

For the past week, my 22 Fillmore driver has greeted me with a cheery, "Good Morning, Ray-chul!"

It was a little jarring the first time - I'd given a couple of my favorite drivers coffee cards for the holidays and while I'd scribbled a "Thanks, Rachel" on the bottom of each card, I didn't think my signature was actually legible. (Read more here.)

From Indianapolis: "Omniscient Driver." (Bus Rider Confessions)

I’ve seen this behavior once before. He was having a seizure.

I yelled, “Bus driver, this man is having a seizure!” (Read the  story here.)