Taking The Bus Takes Load Off Her Shoulders

It was already dark and pouring rain when I left work for home.

I was headed south on Browne Street toward the freeway on-ramp when I saw flashing blue lights up ahead. Our lane was blocked and the rush-hour traffic slowed and squeezed by a broken-down U-Haul truck. Finally, we hit Interstate 90, but as traffic approached the Sprague Avenue interchange, we slowed again and crept around an accident.

Half an hour after leaving my downtown office, I arrived at my destination. As I stepped into the downpour, the bus driver apologized for the delay. I could only chuckle and tell her how grateful I was that she was the one who had to deal with the drive through the rain and dark and various traffic delays. I had been blessed with an additional 10 minutes to relax and reflect on how much more user-friendly Spokane’s transit system had become since I moved to the Valley 15 years ago with my family in tow.

I was raised in East Wenatchee, a car culture town if ever there was one, and I got my driver’s license on my 16th birthday. But at 24, I moved to New York City, where I met and married a man who had never driven or owned a car.

During the 10 years I lived there I learned that owning a car in Manhattan is ludicrous. Parking is impossible and driving is a free-for-all. Instead, I learned to navigate the city’s bus and subway systems. When I splurged, I hailed a cab. In good weather, I walked.

Our son, Morgan, was 2 years old when I persuaded my husband, George, that life would be easier out West. We settled in Greenacres, where I proclaimed I had cut the battery cable! Spokane had a transit system, I told my husband, and we would use it!

Then reality struck. I couldn’t reach any destination that interested me without three bus changes. Buses simply didn’t run early enough to get me to work on time.

We bought a car and when I was pregnant with our second child, I insisted that George learn how to drive. (I wasn’t driving myself to the hospital in labor!) At 34, George got his driver’s license - one month before Alice was born.

Recently, after starting a new job downtown, I decided to give public transportation another try.

I had been stressed at the thought of daily downtown driving, not to mention the cost of gas and parking and, of course, the notorious red light scofflaws.

One of my new colleagues told me how I could take a freeway express bus from one the Valley’s park-and-ride lots to the STA Plaza right across the street from my office downtown. Thanks to the firm for which we work, I pay just $18.50 for a monthly bus pass.

It has been heaven! I have a straight shot from the Sullivan Road park-and-ride to the transit center. No fuss. No muss.

While I ride the bus, George loves driving to work each day. His 20-year-old Subaru should sport a bumper sticker saying, “I’ll give up my car when you pry my cold, dead fingers from the steering wheel.”

When we think about it, it strikes us as odd. I was born to the free-wheeling car culture of the 1960s. I taught my husband how to drive. Today, I prefer to ride the bus. New York-born George likes to be in control of his own destiny and destination, time of departure and time of arrival.

The Spokane transit system is a flawed gem. It looks pretty, it serves well, but it could use some polishing. Changes must to be made to make the system more accessible for Valley residents in need of easy, cheap transportation.

But it sure works for me. I can just sit back and read a book while my chauffeur fights the road battles. And I smile when I think of my husband, listening to Bob Dylan’s “Highway 61” in the privacy of his Subaru.

xxxx