KC Metro's changing its guidelines
I’m a member of a task force convened to evaluate and update the social equity and geographic value components of Metro’s service guidelines. There are precious few "regular" bus riders on this task force, and I think we need some in the audience. If you happen to have three hours free in the middle of a weekday, here’s the schedule of meetings. (The next one's on May 21st.)
Seattle's transportation future
This spring, SDOT is sponsoring a speaker series to explore what we Seattle can learn from other cities' transportation successes. The speaker list includes Gil Penalosa and Janette Sadik-Khan. (!)
- On busing and birthday parties (or, My brief encounter with a bus goddess)
- My kind of bus driver appreciation
- A driver holiday by any other name…
- Hear my bus a comin’
- An anniversary, a heavy baby, and an(other) angry rant
- How to pass the time at a bus stop, part VIII
- Moving beyond the margins
- Transcendental transportation
- Rider for life
- When “growing up” = getting behind the wheel
In the Bus Bag
A Nun on the Bus: How All of Us Can Create Hope, Change, and Community, by Sister Simone Campbell
Monthly Archives: January 2009
This month’s Golden Transfer* goes to Laila B., a Wedgewood resident and fellow TAC member who managed to complete her entire library passport by bus. That’s right–Laila, accompanied by her two-year old grandson, Leo, took Metro to all 27 of the public libraries in Seattle. They did it in time for the January 2nd deadline, though was touch and go near the end. Says Laila:
On the Friday 2 January deadline day I still had three libraries …
Spotted on Broadway, somewhere between John and Republican:
Obviously, it’s been a minute since I’ve walked Broadway; the young bus chick running the place said the sign’s been up for a couple of months.
A (15%) Metro discount and a walk-up window? If only I drank coffee. Or bubble tea.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on the Montgomery Bus Boycott:
During the rush hours the sidewalks were crowded with laborers and domestic workers, many of them well past middle age, trudging patiently to their jobs and home again, sometimes as much as twelve miles. They knew why they walked, and the knowledge was evident in the way they carried themselves. And as I watched them I knew that there is nothing more majestic than the determined courage of individuals willing to suffer and sacrifice for their courage and dignity.
(Source: Stride Toward …
How to make a bus chick (with a stroller) angry, part III (or, Fun with Chicklet and church clothes)
The obstacle course that is our weekly walk to Good Shepherd:
Past offenses (at least those I documented) have involved cars, but it doesn’t take much to block a sidewalk this narrow. Even the light pole is an obstacle. And could someone (please!) trim those bushes back?
An important distinction:
“She’s pretty. No, not bomb–pretty. Believe me, I would tell you if she was bomb.”
Two young women in their late teens/early twenties are talking relationships in the back of the bus.
YW 1: “He’s always asking for presents. He’s like, ‘Buy me this; buy me that.’ I would have bought him that ugly-a** Star Wars poster, but I didn’t want to have to look at it for the rest of my life.”
You arrive at the bus stop to catch the ride to work, but the bus isn’t there. Your destination isn’t very far, so you think, Hmm, maybe I should just walk. But then you might find yourself halfway between stops when the bus whips past, which would be deeply annoying. What to do? Should you walk or should you wait?
Apparently, a few bus nerds from Harvard and Cal Tech were determined to find an answer …
Today, we visited the church where my mother’s ashes are buried. I visit frequently throughout the year, but it’s always hardest on the anniversary of her passing. She’s missed a lot in the two years she’s been gone.
In honor of a woman with no equal, who could pull off leather pants with an apron and heeled mules at a Mariners game, a Real Change column from 2007:
On Jan. 3, after a four-and-a-half year battle with breast cancer, my mother, Caroline …