The Morning Commute Relationship Worth Saving

It was a clear July morning. I ran downstairs and across the street to the bus stop. I missed it. I was one minute late for the scheduled pick-up on bus 33. Or maybe the bus never came. Or maybe it was full, so it skipped our stop… (but, no, that only happens when school is in session). Regardless of the reason why I and 33 didn’t meet, I was left to trudge up the 800-meter hill to the Moria Road bus stop, where my next bus should be arriving.

Although it was still just past 7:00, it was already hot. There are fewer trees overhanging the sidewalk due to the number of buildings undergoing expansion. Paved parking spaces fill the plots where trees used to stand.

But I digress. It was good that I missed my bus, because I needed time to think about my situation. My relationship. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it going. If you’re reading this – I love you, but the way you treat me… I can’t call that love.

I had a deep affection for you, even before I met you. I believe in everything you stand for. I love everything about you. You are environmentally responsible. You radiate passion for community. You treat all people equally, and the most neglected of our society – the poor, the elderly, children – are all attracted to you. I even think you are beautiful – physically, aesthetically – although you probably would find that strange. I rave about you to my students. When I see you coming, I rejoice every time.

I get to the top of the hill, take a left and wait at the bus station for number 31 bus that will take me to work. The sun is now out, and the commuters are clustered in the thin strip of shadow of a Cypress tree standing between us and the sun. There are no other sources of merciful shade. Cars are clogging up the road, one of Haifa’s main transportation arteries, and the commuters and pedestrians are getting a healthy dose of exhaust.

31 arrives. I board. Today I can sit, which is fortunate, because the bus is stuck in the same traffic as the cars, making the journey towards work slower than an open road would allow. It would be nice to have a public transportation lane.

Sitting, I continue to ponder our relationship. I’m here, aren’t I? Thinking of you? But you? I think you mock me. You know I depend on you, and you abuse me for it. Yes, quite frankly, you are abusive.

You could be punctual when we make a date, but you’re not. You could try to convenience me, but you don’t. You could be kind, but you’re rough and cruel. You run hot and cold – sometimes arriving at the time we agreed upon and sometimes casually late. And sometimes, I see you with a dozen other people, speeding past me, as if you just didn’t care that I was standing there waiting for you.

I recall our trips in Europe. I saw ‘your kind’ there – the European versions of you. They were punctual, convenient, and kind.

Dear buses, I don’t know how much longer I can take this abuse. You know I’m committed to you – even dependent on you. When our second family car died some years ago, I proclaimed the remaining car to be my wife’s and that I was now car-free. From that point on it would be just you and me.

OK, I may not have been monogamous, per se. I had a hierarchy of alternatives once I decided to jettison my car. There was Car2Go – the neighborhood car-share. There was Tik-Tak – the minibuses that would charge a bit more than you do, but they would arrive on demand and take me anywhere there was a bus stop. And there are my feet for trips of less than two kilometers. And there are the taxis – an expensive date, and often more abusive than you are – but convenient.

But all those options (except the taxis) have disappeared. Car2Go had a failed business model. Tik-Taks disappeared after being proclaimed ‘unprofitable’. Those minibuses are likely gathering dust in a bus station parking lot. For a while, even my poor, aging feet were betraying me with some undefinable pain radiating out of my left Achilles heel. But that went away with a change of shoes. I’m just not ready to trade you for a bike and brave Haifa’s chaotic streets and wicked topography – even though the bike was my primary commute back in the US (where I would pull my kids in a wagon to kindergarten)…

Buses, I’m still committed to you. You have the potential to provide comfortable transport for thousands of people. The more we have you, the cleaner our air. The more we use you, the more open our roads. The stronger you are, the better we will be. I’ll keep fighting to fund you and expand you, but can you please give me the same respect?

Can you show up when we make a date? Can you not toss me around like a scarecrow when I’m trying to find a seat? Can you make sure you have the capacity to take me and everyone who is traveling with me?

I know you need a budget. I know you should be allowed to operate at a loss. You are a service, not a luxury. I know you need a patron (read: Minister of Transportation) that cares about you as much as I do. But if we can give you all that, can you give me the comfort, safety, and convenience I need?

That would be a fair and sustainable relationship.