The Kindness of Strangers

Not being able to drive is not that bad, but when it is bad, it really sucks. Like the recent morning I got to the bus stop and realized I'd forgotten my wallet--no money, no bus pass. And here was the bus, ready to go. It was the last express bus of the morning. My heart sank--I was going to have to walk all the way home (24 minutes!), and then walk all the way back (24 more minutes!) and take the regular bus, which takes forever. For a split second, I almost begged the five bucks off of one of my fellow bus-takers, but that seemed like overstepping some sort of boundary. I called my neighbor in desperation and out of the kindness of her heart, she ran by my house, picked up my wallet, and drove me to work.

One afternoon, I was walking home under a cloudy sky and it just opened up on me. I'm not organized enough to carry an umbrella, so I ducked under a tree. While I stood there feeling clever, another busrider who did have an umbrella strolled by, offering not only to walk with me under her umbrella, but then drive me from her house to mine! Can you believe this stuff? The rain stopped abruptly so I thanked her and kept on. About three blocks further, a man walked toward me and offered me an umbrella. "Here I brought this for you. I've seen you walking. Can I give you a ride somewhere?" I smiled, said thanks, but I was fine. He persisted, "I wouldn't want you to get sick--then I'd have to bring you chicken soup."

At this point I realize he's trying to pick me up. He did not look like a serial killer, but also not really my type. I thanked him again and moved on. Who knew you might find love on the walk home?

Who are the people in your neighborhood?

I live in a 1970s suburban neighborhood. It's full of ranch-style snout-nosed houses (you know, where the garages and driveways stick out the front of the house). Of course you know it--you grew up there, too.

This particular neighborhood has one main street in and out. Big Box store hell lies beyond.

Forgive my snarkiness, but I think of myself as an urban girl. I like sidewalk cafes, corner markets, boutiques. I like walking. I like public transportation. I'm enjoying my bus rides. But the walk from my house to to the bus stop--which takes me 24 minutes--is an unusual experience. No one else in my neighborhood seems to walk it.

Well, that's a slight exaggeration. Here are the people who walk: members of the half-way house who can't drive anyway; retirees who have all the time in the world; dog walkers; and teenagers who don't have a driver's license yet. Sometimes after the stay-at-home moms drop their kids at school, they'll do a little walking. No one walks to the bus stop, though. No one. If they take the bus, they drive down there and park in the grocery store parking lot.

At first I was self-conscious about being the only person walking. It's a small neighborhood so I know the people in about every third car that whizzes by me. I don't know if I want them to see me, or not. If they see me, they say, "Hey! I saw you walking the other day--where were you going?" This cracks me up--they saw me walking but didn't offer a ride? On the other hand, I've had people who know me very well drive right past me and obviously not see me at all. I trudged past a neighbor's house the other day and he said, "Are you exercising?" I look down at my suit and the purse I have slung over my shoulder. "Um, no, I'm walking from the bus stop." From the look on his face, I might have been speaking Chinese.

But like I said, I enjoy public transportation. I'm a dork, but I think it's kind of fun to figure out how to get from point A to point B. The other night, I had appetizers out on the water after work with a friend. When we were done, we jumped on the trolley and then parted ways at the transit stop to our respective buses. I strolled home from the bus stop. All was quiet in suburban America. It was a warm evening and the stars were out. I shared the journey with a couple of dog walkers.

My feet hurt

I have a blister on the ball of my foot because yesterday I forgot the flip flops I've been wearing to walk to and from the bus stop. I had to walk the 3/4 mile or so in my heels.

All in all, the week went okay. Riding the bus means I have to wake up quite a bit earlier, which frankly sucks. The first morning I had the kids was a disaster. A woke up with a sprained/broken/swollen finger. I didn't know what to do--if I could drive, I'd just take W to school, A and I would go to the urgent care, and then I'd drop him at school later. But as it was, after 7:30, there are no more express buses downtown, plus how would I get to urgent care? On my bike, with A on the handlebars?

My neighbor, who was going to drive me to the bus stop and the kids to school, arrived. By then, it was clear that all A really needed was his finger wrapped. I did that, but I'd missed the bus. We dropped the kids at school and then my neighbor offered to drive me to work. I accepted.

Which brings me to a problem I'm having--accepting help from people. I'm an able-bodied woman with a job. I feel like I should take care of my problems myself. But the truth is, I just can't do this all by myself. The few friends and neighbors I've told about the DUI have been amazing, falling all over themselves to help. I'm so embarrassed to accept their help, even though I know I'd do the same for them if I could. The kids' dad has been amazing, too, even though he and I are trying to unwind our marriage. I feel like I'm building up a debt I will never repay, and that really frightens me.

At least the bus pass works.

What now?

We have no plans today. When the kids were very little and I stayed home with them, if the day got too claustrophobic, I'd throw them in the car and go for a drive. I still do that. If they're squirrely and bickering, I think of an errand or an outing and away we go. But I can't do that now, so I'm wondering what we will do with this day. So far, there's been a lot of computer playing--something called dinosaur run. They found cheat codes on-line, and now their dinosaurs have extra speed and strength. I need some cheat codes.

We took our first bike trip yesterday. We belong to a pool that's about 3/4 of a mile away. It's mostly downhill there, so A., who only just mastered a two-wheel-sans-training-wheels bike last summer did pretty well on the first leg. The trip back was a bit more of a struggle. W. raced ahead, but A. and I took our time. He's prone to giving up in frustrating situations, so I just tried to be supportive, reminding him of popsicles that waited for him at home. Sometimes we got off and walked our bikes. He fell a couple of times and a few other times threw the bike down in disgust, but we eventually reached our street. He seems proud of himself, so I'm hoping he won't balk when I want to do it again.

I already realize the importance of having a good bike, though. The kids' bikes are so heavy and clumsy, no wonder it's more difficult. My friend Judi came with me to buy mine, and urged me to buy the one I eventually got. It's a Novaro "Mia." It's a dream to ride. Definitely a street bike, but more upright, kind of cruiser-like. She says that it's closer to the style that they ride in Europe where commuter biking is more common. Which reminds me--check out her blog: http://www.sansauto.blogspot.com.

Nothing Compares 2U

Remember that song by Sinead O'Connor? While I drove around town yesterday, that song kept going through my head. "This is the last day of our acquaintance . . . " I know, drama queen, right?

I took yesterday and the rest of this week off because it's the kids' spring break. This coincides neatly with adjusting to the no-wheels situation. And yes, the kids do know about the license suspension. The conversation went something like this:

(Me): "You guys, mom did something wrong, stupid and dangerous. I drank too many beers one night and then drove the car. A police officer pulled me over and as punishment, I can't drive a car for a year."

(In horrified chorus): "A YEAR!!!!"

(A., my seven year-old): "But how will we get to Albertson's?"

(W., my nine-year old, philosophically): "Well, we can walk, it's not that far."

(A): "What if we have to go to the bathroom?"

(Me): "On the way? Well, we can pee in the bushes."

(A nods, satisfied that the only problem he sees with the entire situation is resolved).

(W): "Wait, will we have to take the bus to Dad's?"

(Me): "Um, no, I'm pretty sure Dad will come pick you up."

So that was it. Their concerns were met and they are a-okay with the situation. I wonder what they'll say about it at school? I opted for not telling them it was something to keep to themselves, so I'm sure the neighborhood will know everything shortly.

On another note, I got my bus pass in the mail yesterday--it's a spiffy plastic credit card type thing that you can reload on line. Apparently you just tap it next to some kind of electric device when you board the bus. I'm already having anxiety that it hasn't been properly loaded, so that when I use it for the first time on Monday, an alarm will sound indicating that the card is empty, and I am trying to pull a fast one. I will stand there stupidly at the front of the bus while the busdriver looks at me askance. Again with the drama queen. I'm going to make sure and bring cash, though.

One of the last car trips I took yesterday was to the grocery store. I had to laugh at myself because I shopped as though I was going to disappear into a bomb shelter for a year. And of all things, what did I forget? Coffee. I usually run by Starbuck's on my way to work.

The Last Day

Tomorrow is the last day I will drive a car for a year. I'm going to reduce my carbon footprint. I'm going to protect mother earth. I'm going to do my part.

Except I'm not doing this voluntarily. I'll be serving penance for driving under the influence of alcohol.

A couple of months ago, on the way home from an extended happy hour, I got pulled over. The wheels of justice turn slowly, and my DMV hearing was just last week. My lawyer didn't really have any evidence to contradict the police report, so it was a pretty clear cut decision. The court hearing on the misdemeanor hasn't been scheduled yet.

For a year, I won't be able to just jump in the car and go . . . well, anywhere. I will be dependent on public transportation, my new bike, and the kindness of my friends and family. I live in the carcentric universe called the suburbs and a mile from the closest bus stop. I have two kids who have to get to school. Their dad and I are separated, so I'm the head of the household. I live 20-plus miles from my office.

I don't know how difficult it will be. I think it could be funny. And, like the rest of America, I think my experience might be worth blogging about.