A Bus Story

Fiction. Short Creative Nonfiction

On election day in 2008, when the first African-American was elected president of the United States, my family's twenty-something year old van died. It croaked in the New Hope Church parking lot while my mom was voting. Luckily, Molly, the name my mom affectionately called our van, had a little life in her to go three blocks to our house where she retired in our drive way for eternity. Molly's death started a life changing trend for the Aldridge family; riding the bus became our new mode of transportation around the laid back mile high city. Even though we often make jokes about Molly having been on team McCain and was upset that her driver was on team Obama, I kind of miss the gal; she was the vehicle that serviced the family through snow, rain, hail, triplets, car pools, road trips and groceries. She even puckered through a car accident that left the driver's door forever closed and incapable of highway use.

Public transportation is a new and different world. Residents of this world are often the elderly, mothers, school children, ex-prisoners and employees that are wanting to save money at the pump. If I had a penny for every time I screamed, ran, missed and waited in the cold for a bus I would be rich. At those times, I wish I was sitting in one of the comfy navy blue Captain seats of our Ford Econoline van. Without Molly kicking the bucket, I wouldn't have gained my independence and my ability to navigate around the city. There are attractive qualities about riding the bus: the relaxing environment of the AF regional, sitting on the 44 local while gazing at mothers combing their daughter's hair outside on the porch, watching old men in checkered shirts playing cards and dominoes, catching up with an old friend with a multi-colored Mohawk on the 38 local, or just getting lost in the scenery of an unfamiliar part of town while embarking on an hour and a half journey across town.

While taking the bus for over 2 years I have developed an appreciation for the Regional Transportation District. A community is created by frequent passengers; elder passengers look out for younger passengers and vice versa; friendly smiles from bus drivers are cast out at every boarding passenger. The bus cradles us all in its massive body while getting us to our destination on time and safely.