So this week I have a friend's car....
visual: blue Toyota compact car, Coldplay LIVE CD streaming from the stereo and out the open windows, spacious backseat for things I probably don't need (i.e. tennis shoes - just in case I decide to go workout after work...I have not yet, extra clothes, a gift maybe I will deliver to a friend....), and a box of Trader Joe's crackers in the passenger seat.
So, I am borrowing a friend's car while she is loving life in Hawaii. I was so excited when I dropped her off at the airport and sped off in my little blue car! I thought, "yes! Freedom!" as I banged my fist in the air. Oh, and I let freedom ring - freedom from friends having to pick me up, freedom from that damn bus system, freedom from my bike, freedom to snack in the car while talking on speakerphone and intermittently singing along to my own tunes at the top of my lungs. I stick my hand out the window and do that weird wave thing that people do when they drive fast, and I smile. This feel good, this feels right.
'Ding', the car rings, as if it is excited to have me in that driver's seat. So, I peek down at the dash as to give that baby blue a nod and a wink. Balderdash! Gas light!
So here I go, pull over to fill the gas tank. $37.00!! Well, a small fee for this joy ride.
But then, that sparkle and shine begins to wear off...
I sit in traffic daily, alone with my thoughts, leaving voicemail on peoples' phones, and listening to that overplayed CD. And what is this? My lulululemon groove pants feel a bit tighter due to no bike riding and/or bus stop walking. And then, I had to fill the gas tank AGAIN. Oh, and do not even get me started on parking in Beverly Hills or anywhere on the Westside, or really anywhere in Los Angeles for that matter!
As I sit at the stoplight, I peer in the rearview mirror at an old friend, Bus Line number 4. Here it comes loud, old, crowded and dependable. Just pushing its way through traffic like a freight train, on that mission to publicly transport the good green citizens of LA to their destined stops. Oh, there it goes past me in that right lane; I wave for some reason. There are people on that bus I could be meeting, hugging, judging them for judging me when they are actually asleep!
O M G, I miss the bus!
Here I am, polluting the earth. Watching my bank account dwindle to names such as Chevron, Exxon, or Arcco. Overeating these crackers and calling people I haven't talked to since high school because I cannot listen to Coldplay LIVE one more minute!
I miss my bus. I miss the lessons I learn daily while being snobby on my bus. I miss the people. I do. Crazy, I know! And I miss the excitement if I make it to an earlier bus, or that mystery of whether I timed it just right. Or the hunt for quarters. And that cool, earthy feeling that you are doing the 'green thing'.
I cannot believe I miss the bus.