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
An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States, by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz
Tag Archives: Good Shepherd
8 to and from the Nutcracker (16)…
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?
And finally, after a mere year and a half of wallowing in litter, southbound 48 passengers waiting at 23rd & Union once again have a place to put their trash.
In my last post, I mentioned that Bus Nerd recently (last weekend, in fact) took a trip to Chicago. As is our custom, I “saw him off” by accompanying him on the bus ride to the airport. Unfortunately, Bus Nerd’s departing flight left at 11:30 PM, which meant, of course, that I’d miss the last 194 and would be returning home–after dark, no less–on its ugly steproute, the 174.