I'm a huge proponent of public transportation. The secret-place-I-disappeared-to this past weekend has excellent public transport and it's incredibly bicycle-friendly should you need your independence.
So when I returned home and my car died, -- not just a "spell" but an absolute death to the 1987 Acura Integra with approximately four kajillion miles on it -- I just shrugged and decided to not have a car for a while.
Friend-with-a-Truck offered to leave work to drive me the 2.5 miles down Bardstown Road yesterday, but I was stubborn and didn't want to interrupt anyone's work day when I could easily hop the bus. Prepared with six quarters (I have no idea how much TARC costs these days), I walked to a bus stop and waited. And waited. And waited.
It was 95 degrees (not an exagerration), and I was sweaty, hot, annoyed, and now running late. I had been waiting 20 minutes for the bus that should have come within 5, when a wine-connoisseur friend from The Wine Market called out to me. (Just because I know the Wine guy by name doesn't mean I have a problem.)
About that same time, I felt something land on my head. I reached up to swat it away, and I was stung by a bee. On the head. By a bee. It had now been 24 minutes I'd been waiting for the stupid bus, and I just completely gave up.
I pouted a bit, went into The Wine Market for some cold air and good conversation, spent my six quarters on a fancy ginger ale, and called Friend-with-a-Smart-Car for a ride.
I might buy a car tomorrow. Or move to this secret-place-I-visited-last-weekend and bring my bicycle.
So when I returned home and my car died, -- not just a "spell" but an absolute death to the 1987 Acura Integra with approximately four kajillion miles on it -- I just shrugged and decided to not have a car for a while.
Friend-with-a-Truck offered to leave work to drive me the 2.5 miles down Bardstown Road yesterday, but I was stubborn and didn't want to interrupt anyone's work day when I could easily hop the bus. Prepared with six quarters (I have no idea how much TARC costs these days), I walked to a bus stop and waited. And waited. And waited.
It was 95 degrees (not an exagerration), and I was sweaty, hot, annoyed, and now running late. I had been waiting 20 minutes for the bus that should have come within 5, when a wine-connoisseur friend from The Wine Market called out to me. (Just because I know the Wine guy by name doesn't mean I have a problem.)
About that same time, I felt something land on my head. I reached up to swat it away, and I was stung by a bee. On the head. By a bee. It had now been 24 minutes I'd been waiting for the stupid bus, and I just completely gave up.
I pouted a bit, went into The Wine Market for some cold air and good conversation, spent my six quarters on a fancy ginger ale, and called Friend-with-a-Smart-Car for a ride.
I might buy a car tomorrow. Or move to this secret-place-I-visited-last-weekend and bring my bicycle.
3 comments
Huh. Maybe you were in Philadelphia. Life without a car here is good. Or Portland! They are supposed to have the best public transit. Or good old NYC. Will you ever tell us?
ReplyDeleteWell, I don't think it's New York, too many people to get around on a bike. Good Public transportation though. Lemme see, I know it was not Vegas, because I would hope you would have let me know, and I'd have come and gotten you from the airport and shown you around town. Plus they have craptastic public transportation here unless you are traveling exclusively on the Strip and/or Downtown. I hope you had a great time. Mystery!
ReplyDeleteMy guess is Amsterdam. Or some other European city, but I reckon Amsterdam.
ReplyDelete