In my first book, I talk about the amazing synchronicity in returning items to riders on my bus: ranging from the five one hundred dollar bills used as a book mark in an old softcover–to the coin purse of nickels, dimes, and pennies from an overjoyed senior downtown. I have four different versions of pdfs in my training vault about what to do when trying to find out what happens to your phone, a book, or a shopping bag, if left and spaced on the bus after you leave my domain as a bus driver. You can still visit me at: http://www.daoofdoug.com. –and I’ll rotate the different versions of Lost and Found.

This blog, however, is about the ‘lost and found’ of my job which came into my imaginative mind as I awoke on my last day of service at Muni. My retirement was on my birthday on the first Friday of June, 2020, but because of the lockdown of Covid, I was assigned on a part time basis, and didn’t realize that this Tuesday was actually going to be my last day– ‘losing’ my steadfast purpose of 21 and half years of showing up to drive a bus around town to take you to your destination. In that first few moments upon awakening, all those I had touched throughout the years on the 22 Fillmore, 24 Divisadero, and 33 Ashbury came to wish me farewell.

I’ve become a much better writer now that I’ve put together four books about my day as a transit operator, and I pridefully point out how my edits and errors reduced from over one thousand corrections in 2013 Finding Zen book 1, to only seven in book 3, Trolleybus of Happy Destiny, 2018. But with all those hours behind the screen on the keyboard blogging away on weekends after work, I am still stymied and baffled about how to convey the feeling I had on my last day waking up to go to work. I didn’t know it was my last day, though in hindsight, the clues were there.

It was a bright sunny morning this day when I opened my eyes, and I had a strong sense of gratitude and knowing which comes from remembrance of where I was and what I was doing while I was in dream state. I got this incredible burst of love and smiles with visages and voices of those who I intuitively knew were my riders on the bus. These were specific people who had known me on my routine runs, during the day. I could see their invisible hand shake or embrace or smile behind my cockpit and it was if they were saying goodbye like parting with a long time family member or close lifetime friend. It was more of an understanding of love, and I sensed many different souls shining brightly and gently giving me congratulations.

Like so many of my slow honest moments in life, I couldn’t connect the dots of this experience until I checked my detail two days later, and saw I wasn’t going to be assigned work on my last official day of employment. That waking moment returned to my heart as this was the spiritual gift as beautiful and shiny as a gold pocket watch and chain!

The bus driver that brought me my 24 Divisadero bus at Sutter inbound the past week was at her parked car getting something to get ready for a twilight shift on the 24. I paused and opened my coach door before pulling in my last time to the gate to give good cheer like the feeling of going to church to hang the greens for service on Christmas Eve. She was the last coworker to see me on the bus, and unlike my expectation to be greeted at the gate with some imagined ribbon across the gate, no one was at the revenue collection station, and the tower was empty with the signal set for track 12. That’s it. No drum roll, no unusual or special occurrence.

Then it dawned on me as a huge shit eating grin slowly broke over my face as I slowly walked off the property for the last time. My union rep had kept my vice superintendent at bay and prevented a two or three day suspension with an adroit knowledge of the rulebook. I had the support of my union.

There were no bad feelings amongst any of my coworkers, and no bad blood or payback about any past event in memory. I recalled an adage about stand up comedy, “Leave them wanting more.” Or, later, the more sanguine belief:

san·guine /ˈsaNGɡwən / adjective

• 1.optimistic or positive, especially in an apparently bad or difficult situation: 

“Get out when the getting is good!”

I did it! I got out clean! No more paperwork! And the truism about Muni: No news is good news – and – my favorite, the best surprise is no surprise! (Leave it for Christmas or Birthdays!)

There was a joyful mood at the front doors by the tunnel garage opening with a good sized group of operators chatting merrily away and I paused and smiled, and quietly walked down Geary to my apartment to take off my uniform for the last time.

What with Venus, our brightest ‘star’ against an Aquarian new moon, I walk out my door wondering about the dance between Mars and Venus in Capricorn this lunar New Year. Shadow direct Mars and Venus’ retrograde pause in the muse’s music of an awesome dawn I reflect on Bernie’s cold weather sit v. Putin’s move to restore Russia’s tragedy of a broken Union when the walls fell. Indeed 1989 was the last time we were ‘here’ in the weather of the orbs in our sky.

Perhaps we can share spy v spy double agents in a burst of Uranian influence disguised as King Saturnalia upon arrival of our Jovian dinner mid-month. A feast of lucky spyware beyond Bond.

The reflection doesn’t lie. The water is cold. The sun gets hot as the day goes on. Do we seek what we’ve always seen? Or do we go to a new place? Do a double date and take your face with you.

• 

The second-most happiest moment of the day can usually be the time we see the tower in our front windscreen because it means we made it back to the barn!  We completed another day of revenue service without creating more “incident” paperwork or having trouble meet us before our day is done.  Oh, just a minor piece of paperwork to be turned in to the tower, the defect card.  How long could this take?  How bad could it be?  Do you guys remember the recent movie title, “There Will Be Blood?”

The Blood, The Sweat, and The Tears, are very rarely are shed at the tower. These are found during the special event when the bus is packed at 36th Avenue by Golden Gate Park, and there are another 3 miles of bus stops with people waiting to get on to go to BART at 5th Street!  No, the tower is usually a sweet spot without drama.  

The Tears will come in the next week, or the next month, when you get the bus again on a cold and windy morning, and it still has no heat.   Or the chair still loses air.  You hop-in and see perfectly through the eight mirrors, but halfway to Daly City, you become a low-rider in the seat and wish you had the hydraulics to lift your ass up out of the seat to see what lay ahead:  Or the horn goes off any time you try to turn the wheel:  That poor little Chihuahua may never be the same again:  Glares and stares from cyclists and pedestrians who think you are a regular horn honker.  No, the art of the pull-in is to know what I can and cannot put on the defect card, and what will or will not get fixed.   This is much like reading tea-leaves.  But in this case the leaves are the three parts of the defect card:  yellow, pink, and white. 

If I see lots of hanging chads by the door to the tower, I would do well to smile and let things go. After all, the logic within the hallowed walls of the tower may go something like; if it was okay for you to drive like that all day it couldn’t be all that bad.  If it was broken, you would have called for the road crew, and if it was unfixable, they would have sent you in. Unspoken, to be sure, unwritten to be sure, but can I get my defect card on the windshield wiper, with the order of “track 22?”  

Track 22 is code for that sinking feeling some time in the next day when the next operator realizes they have been had.  That the manufacturer’s maintenance schedule does not coincide with the parts budget allocation!

Good one?  Is the late night request that comes forth from the tower when pulling-in during the wee hours.  A thumbs up means on to advancing to the happiest moment of the day, the fare box collector. Do not pass go. Do not collect 200 dollars.   But on to free parking! (Actually no, parking is now paid, and it just went up.)  Being able to get something fixed without breaking down on the road is truly a God Given Gift.   And to get the defect card on the wiper, and to be assigned the same coach on the next day with no problems, is perhaps an Eighth Wonder of the World in keeping Zen as a transit operator in San Francisco!

I came back from the bathroom at City College, and saw a young man running away from the front of my bus. He still had an aerosol paint can in his hand as he ran. I knew I had less than 15 seconds to capture the image. I ran to the front door, pried it open and hit the drive cam button. The camera captures up to 15 seconds, with about 8 seconds prior to button push. I nailed him. On the front windscreen, this idiot tagged both windshields and covered them with paint. I would be unable to move the coach because my view would be blocked by graffiti.

I found a soda can by the curb that still contained a swallow or two, and immediately held the open top to the paint on the windows. Like a deicing blade on a cold winter morning, I let the cola drip out of the pop top and used the lip of the can as a scraper. Because the paint had not dried, the carbonated water was great in cleaning off the mess. Score another victory for staying in service without a call to the car cleaners! 

The next week, I pulled in to the Phelan Loop at City College and I saw a paddy wagon and several cops standing around with radio sets talking to a youth. I heard them say the fine was $10,000 dollars as they put handcuffs on him. The young man freaked out with a scream or a moan of “No!” as he dropped to his knees.

I didn’t feel victorious or elated. I felt sad. Could there be another way to instill in this young man the consequences of his thoughtless action? The thought of Ripley in Aliens came to mind when the alien egg opened in the nest one last time to find another victim to grab onto and incubate.

That’s the last straw. You went over the line. It’s one thing to put some initials on the tail end of a bus as we pull away from 18th and Mission, but it’s a whole different ball game to completely block an operator’s view on the front window.

My motive to capture his image on screen was consistent with the ‘broken window’ theory used by the police in New York City: by clearing graffiti in its tracks by (fixing a broken window stat) and stopping the blight immediately as it occurs, the message, this situation is unacceptable, prevents future abuse. Such as keeping an area or surface clean, people are more hesitant to start a new mess.

I do look at graffiti as an art form and admire the many alleyway walls that contain such aerosol art. Watching the creation process is interesting and informative. California may hold the record in number of wall tags and wall art; but on the windscreen of a bus? I don’t think so.

I have event marker buttons to record what happens on the side of the bus, where most tags occur. I also now have 9 active cameras covering all interior and exterior sides of the bus. Usually, as I pull away from the zone, I see a tagger hurrying to scribble before the bus moves away. They wear a black hoodie pulled over their head to make facial features hard to detect. I never know if the image ever gets to an authority able to catch the tagger, unless I get a radio call to pull over and wait for a police car to identify the person in the back seat. I usually continue on my way without any confirmation resources are to be used to catch the tagger or taggers.

The passive approach seems to work best. By marking the time and place, resources can be ready the next week and see if the pattern repeats. More often than not, it does. It is these patterns, these beats within the energy flow of the city that fascinate me and keep my mind active and interested in what is coming next.

When taggers come to the front to talk to me after their buddies go to jail, I know ‘justice’ has been served. Very few incidents occur once the word is out. Sometimes there is retaliation inside the bus before an exit. They come in huge packs so the police cannot discern who sprayed what as they all wear the same black uniform. When they are all waiting at one bus stop to board, I pass by. This means passing up a stop, and sometimes a passenger has to walk back a few blocks, but I try to explain why I didn’t stop. They understand; one less bus out of service.

I recently rented a car share to go downtown to buy some bins for my storage closet and screens for my windows. When I say I am not a car person, I mean it. This becomes painfully clear when I try to park around downtown in a car. I am much more comfortable in a bus than in a car.

My friends ask in awe about how I can maneuver such a large vehicle in traffic, but being bigger has it’s advantages. I have much clearer visibility up high with lots of big mirrors. In a car, I am more or less an equal, and I am continually shocked at how close people tailgate and fail to leave a space cushion around me. The lack of using turn signals is perhaps the biggest failure of motorists, and they seem oblivious to how the simple act of signaling your intention can prevent gridlock and reduce conflict and collision.

It can be seen that the reason a turn signal is not given is because the driver does not know where they are going! Seeing a back seat driver or a passenger with a map open is telling. Large car share stencils over the paint job of an auto alert regular city drivers that a novice is behind the wheel, and to give wide berth!

Wide berth, however, is inexcusable with your car’s ass sticking out more than 18 inches from the curb! The thought I am only going to take a second is no reason to park

more than a foot away from the curb, or to double park–especially on two-way streets. The red curb is red for a reason. We need the curb space to clear a turn.

On the bus I have what I call photon torpedoes. I can mark a spot on the ongoing video in front of my bus to capture a license plate of an offending vehicle blocking the transit lane or bus zone. I feel smugly complacent in generating revenue for the city at the flick of a switch, until I take away the notion of being separate from the people I was photographing. Being in a car share to pick up some office storage bins had me worried about my car karma. I had big stencils on my car and would be tagged as an idiot from the start. Would I end up being the same inconsiderate driver when loading bins into the hatchback?

I parked in the 5th and Mission garage and decided to carry the bins to the car in the garage. The store wouldn’t let me use a dolly to roll to the garage one block away. No problem, I thought, I can carry them. They were light but bulky. When I got to the garage, the top bin caught on an overhead exit sign and the whole load tumbled to the floor, cracking the lids on all of them! Perhaps this was payback for all the tickets I issued to folks going Christmas shopping one month earlier!

I have since not seen the bus with the ‘photon torpedo’ cameras, and I don’t take a picture of a vehicle’s plates if the car is not hindering any passenger to get to my front door. Only in the case of loading a wheelchair or someone on crutches, do I make a photo record of the offending vehicle blocking the curb. I allow any car intending to pull out from a parked position space to move into the traffic lane if traffic is creating a solid wall without a gap with which to move into the flow. If someone needs to get into their car, and I am in stopped traffic, I now always give them a car space to open their door and get in. Sure enough, I am let into the passing lane when blocked from a turning car. As I allow others to merge, so am I given Grace.

I can follow the Zen of not identifying anyone as stupid, and understand we are all trying to do the best we can with what we have been given.

One of the most frustrating aspects in the bustle and tussle of a large, dense city is just missing a connection.  This chapter is for the regular transit rider that may still be missing transfers to another bus that can be averted by one simple rule:  your desire to catch that trolley bus actually hinges not on the caricature of one massive entity called a Municipal Transit Agency, but rather, an individual seated behind the wheel of a car.  Yes, we call coaches or cars by their number, and it is okay to call a bus a car, such as car number 5505. 

If you are aware of car numbers, chances are you have a good handle on understanding the system.  If your awareness extends to run number, car number, cap number, and line number, then your status is elevated to that of a Muni God.  By reading this book, you too, can be elevated unto that Heavenly Status.  Gods can get angry.  Gods can cause major damage.  Gods can cause a rush of change.  But when they are benevolent as angels,  good things can happen!  

Most of us have been given the incorrect model on how to affect change.  Heck, I can’t even spell the distinction correctly!   Do you desire an effect, or an affect?   We believe that expending a burst of loud, hostile energy is a fast way to make change happen.  Or anger can be harbored for years, yet nothing changes.  We become comfortable with our anger and nurse it and polish it in to a fine object that can become attractive to all who come in contact with it.  I know I have loved my deepest and longest held resentments against a large organization, and loved telling you about these over happy hour!  Now, however, I write these down on my inventory list with my  12 step recovery sponsor.  My most exciting challenge is to take this wonderfully polished and shiny resentment about missed transfers in to a missive about the approaches to catching a bus, and the mistakes people make in doing so.

If you are on a one shot deal, then all I can give you are the facial expressions or body language that cause me to wait for you, and hope that they work on a transfer you may never have to make again.

The Wounded Puppy.

Aw, poor baby.  Are you all alone on the corner without a warm, dry bus for shelter?  This works if I have room and time, and I know there is no bus behind me.  A smile at the last minute works great if timed correctly.  A Homer Simpson “dough,”  or one loud profane exclamation also works if timed just as the front door passes by.  This works great when traffic is light or nonexistent.  Twilights and Sundays are good prospective times for wounded puppy.  If not young and pretty, a sigh of sadness, with quivering cane uplifted to an invisible Kaiser also works.  Dropping the shoulders Charlie Brown style after “Lucy” also works wonderfully.   But note that these all require the eye contact of acknowledging that it is a person driving a bus, and not just a bus. 

The Plea Bargain.

This was used in the movie “Speed.”  Annie makes it to the doomed bus as Sam the bus driver jokes that this boarding point is not at the bus stop.  I have expanded this with the train and plane analogy of questions. ” Where to you catch a train?”   “At a train station.”  “Where to get on a plane?”  “On a jetway at an airport.”  “And where to we get a bus?”   Some of you latecomers are so puffed up with pride, you may never get on a bus.  But if you pronate yourself as if praying to the Muni God of Nigh, the Transit Operator, Grace has been known to open the back door! (occasionally.)  This would be a good chapter for a movie.  I wish I could call up some clips on the plea bargain.  The plea bargain came come silently with the eyes, or with a huge, loud, profane word!   The more over-the-top, the better!

The Dignitary.  

Only works with blessed folk.  Those that attend church regularly and have a comfortable sense of self-righteousness that does not infringe on others.  Those who pray regularly without self-centered fear can stop a bus from any location just by a simple turn of the head and a smile.   It is always a wonderful rush to pick up someone like this.  Rare, indeed, but all the more meaningful.  Quality, not quantity is definitely the Dao of this pick-up.

The Lost Puppy.

Unfortunately, these are most dramatic and visceral because of their stand alone nature.   If you are traveling from the East Bay for a job interview, for example, and are new to the system, the time you are allowing for transfers may be inadequate.  The image of successfully dashing across the street to a streetcar from a trolley is easy to get, especially if you have heard our service is frequent.  The reality of the situation is that you need to add 20 minutes for every mode or bus transfer to your first time journey.  As you become familiar to the transfers, transit time can be reduced, such that a trip that may have taken two hours and twenty minutes to complete, can be shaved down to 45 minutes.  

20 Questions

We operators become aware of the places where intending passengers ask us for a destination behind us.  On cross town routes, we see that by a BART station, people board buses going in the opposite direction that they need to reach their destination.  By traveling for fifteen or twenty minutes in the wrong direction, they can add an hour to their travel time.  This is sometimes a sad and frustrating conversation.   It can throw off my concentration of staying alert to road hazards.   This unfocused energy can be just as harmful to the bus driver as to your missed appointment or interview.  

If you have been given an address, it is important to search this on a map system so you have a good idea about which corner you need to wait.  If a delay creates a gap in trolleys, this lack of knowing where to stand can add twenty minutes fast.  Waiting for the wrong bus, and then changing direction, can create a bombshell at the door of the next bus.  Keep the Zen by knowing which corner to wait.  

There can be four different lines on each different corner, with the same bus line going in two different directions on either side.  Such is the case at Jackson and Fillmore, where people chronically wait on Fillmore instead of Jackson to take an outbound 24 to the Castro or Bayview.  Seeing the sign post is not enough.  You need to know which direction the bus is going.  Asking others at the stop is a good idea, especially if we are running late on a weekend afternoon!

First Stop and Getting Started (excerpt from Finding Zen in San Francisco Transit)

First Stop and Getting Started

When I pull-out in the morning, I always smile and say hello to my first customer.  I try to make this an important barometer for how the day will go. The greeting gives me an instant check in to see where I am at in my head, and whether or not I am present to be of service. The job gives great paychecks, but I have always followed the precept that do what you like and the money will follow. I do know that placing service first is actually my best action to create job security. I am not surprised to admit that I may not be following this belief for more than half the time I spend behind the wheel.  Most of my actions become subconscious, which is great from a Zen point of view, but it takes considerable effort to get back to a service first mode when I am running late and heavy.  

I was jotting down ideas for chapters and this one popped into my head as I was doing pre-op on track 12. I would add chapter idea headings into a blank notepad in my shirt pocket—then add them to my netbook. If I ever had a block against writing, I could use those notes as a starting point to get my juices flowing. I had a blank as to what I was thinking when I put it in.  “Getting Started” could mean anything—waking up before coffee; getting to the bus stop to take a 22 to the barn; signing-in on the daily pull out coach assignment; finding the yard starter; calling Central Control and telling them I am blocked on track 4; running back to the tower to see if I could get someone from the shop to stop an air leak; or get out of restricted mode—just get the coach to move; or get the doors to open.

I remembered my tears as I was trying to make it to the gate to pull-out. My collectors had not been reset when someone de-wired pulling on to track 12 last night. I didn’t know how much leeway the wheel had against the wash rack, and I cut the turn too fast and too sharp and got caught in the wires. After finally coaxing the poles out of the web, I put them back on the wires only to de-wire again. I needed to be at 11th and Mission in five minutes and wasn’t going to make it. I began crying because I wasn’t even out the gate and was already an emotional wreck.

A couple of times, maybe three, I went through three coaches before I pulled-out. Finding a coach that is okay can be a game of musical chairs. As soon as I remember the wisdom of being Zen is kept when I throw out the schedule, or try to maintain the schedule, I immediately relax.  You could ask me a question about where I go if I am in the Zen. Thankfully, the SFMTA has purchased an entire fleet of new trolleybuses since this chapter was written in 2012, and there is little hunt and peck for equipment since 2018.

But getting started could be when the alarm goes off in the morning: did I get enough rest last night?  Am I too stiff?  Waking up with a crick in the neck is just awful—especially if we have to turn our head to the left to observe boarding passengers.  I have to check the condition my body is in when I wake up because I have learned the hard way that if I don’t take care of myself, I could be in for a bad day.  Nothing is worse than being tired behind the wheel of a bus in a busy city.  So getting started could actually be about how we approach the day when we first wake up.  Getting on a regular sleep cycle, when I don’t even need an alarm, is a good indication that I will be in the Zen zone for most of the time in the seat.

The great thing about the first stop and the first passenger is that none of burdens of being late or overwhelmed usually exist. I always try to find a start time that doesn’t put me behind the eight ball from the get go: there are certain quirks in the schedule that place cut-in coaches at a disadvantage at the first terminal.  Usually it because the leader is late and ends up being behind the cut in coach where the new coach begins service. At the first terminal, the pull out “leader” has to pull poles to let the follower regain leader headway.  With all the cuts to recovery time (2009, 2010) the leader may not have any wiggle room to relax and break before heading out from that terminal. Recovery doesn’t usually allow for enough time until around 10 a.m.

I have learned to cut-in at not necessarily the exact time, but to make sure my leader passes before I cut-in.  Sometimes it is easier to trail blaze ahead and keep the follower less busy so he can make better time to arrive at the next terminal with some recovery time.   All these nuances do influence how I feel when I get to my first terminal, and hence, shorten or lengthen my temper when picking up those first few passengers at the first stop. 

I found out that I am not a rush hour downtown bus driver.  I am a crosstown guy that avoids being on that inbound trip at 8:30 a.m. or that 5:15 p.m. trip outbound. Cross town is where it’s at for me.  The Muni meaning behind “doing homework” means checking out the paddles to see where the run is in the morning and in the afternoon.  People always ask me what the bad line is. I say there are no bad lines. Only bad leaving times.

Would I really like being on a run that leaves the Ferry Plaza at 5:05 pm, especially if there are tunnel problems?  Or would I rather be in Daly City leaving in the non-peak direction, with a few baby sitters or house cleaners returning home?

Would I rather be leaving the industrial area near Dogpatch on the 22 after 5 p.m., or in the Marina, hours after school has let out.  

Does my run leave Fillmore and Bay five minutes after the bell rings at the largest middle school in the system, or would I already be on the road ten minutes away from the school, heading up the hill past Union?  At Muni, just like in stand-up comedy, timing is key.

Not A Bus.  .  .  A Person Driving A Bus.  .   .

One of the most frustrating aspects in the bustle and tussle of a large, dense city is just missing a connection.  This chapter is for the regular transit rider who may still  be missing transfers to another bus that can be averted by one simple rule:  your desire to catch that trolley bus actually hinges not on the caricature of one massive entity called a Municipal Transit Agency, but rather, an individual seated behind the wheel of a car.  Yes, we call coaches or cars by their number, and it is okay to call a bus a car, such as car number 5505.  If you are aware of car numbers, chances are you have a good handle on understanding the system.  If your awareness extends to run number, car number, cap number, and line number, then your status is elevated to that of a Muni God.  By reading this book, you too, can be elevated unto that Heavenly Status.  Gods can get angry.  Gods can cause major damage.  Gods can cause a rush of change.  But when they are benevolent as angels,  good things can happen!  

Most of us have been given the incorrect model on how to affect change.  Heck, I can’t even spell the distinction correctly!   Do you desire an effect, or an affect?   We believe that expending a burst of loud, hostile energy is a fast way to make change happen.  Or anger can be harbored for years, yet nothing changes.  We become comfortable with our anger and nurse it and polish it in to a fine object that can become attractive to all who come in contact with it.  I know I have loved my deepest and longest held resentments against a large organization, and loved telling you about these over happy hour!  Now, however, I write these down on my inventory list with my  12 step recovery sponsor.  My most exciting challenge is to take this wonderfully polished and shiny resentment about missed transfers in to a missive about the approaches to catching a bus, and the mistakes people make in doing so.

If you are on a one shot deal, then all I can give you are the facial expressions or body language that cause me to wait for you, and hope that they work on a transfer you may never have to make again.

The Wounded Kitty

Aw, poor baby.  Are you all alone on the corner without a warm, dry bus for shelter?  This works if I have room and time, and I know there is no bus behind me.  A smile at the last minute works great if timed correctly.  A Homer Simpson “dough,”  or one loud profane exclamation also works if timed just as the front door passes by.  This works great when traffic is light or nonexistent.  Twilights and Sundays are good prospective times for wounded kitty.  If not young and pretty, a sigh of sadness, with quivering cane uplifted to an invisible Kaiser also works.  Dropping the shoulders Charlie Brown style after “Lucy” also works wonderfully.   But note that these all require the eye contact of acknowledging that it is a person driving a bus, and not just a bus. 

The Plea Bargain

This was used in the movie “Speed.”  Annie makes it to the doomed bus as Sam the bus driver jokes that this boarding point is not at the bus stop.  I have expanded this with the train and plane analogy of questions. ” Where do you catch a train?”   “At a train station.”  “Where to get on a plane?”  “On a jetway at an airport.”  “And where do we get a bus?”   Some of you latecomers are so puffed up with pride, you may never get on a bus.  But if you pronate yourself as if praying to the Muni God of Nigh, the Transit Operator, Grace has been known to open the back door! (occasionally.)  This would be a good chapter for a movie.  I wish I could call up some clips on the plea bargain.  The plea bargain can  come silently with the eyes, or with a huge, loud, profane word!   The more over-the-top, the better!

The Dignitary  

Only works with blessed folk.  Those who attend church regularly and have a comfortable sense of self-righteousness that does not infringe on others.  Those who pray regularly without self-centered fear can stop a bus from any location just by a simple turn of the head and a smile.   It is always a wonderful rush to pick up someone like this.  Rare, indeed, but all the more meaningful.  Quality, not quantity is definitely the Dao of this pick-up.

The Lost Puppy

Unfortunately, these are most dramatic and visceral because of their stand alone nature.   If you are traveling from the East Bay for a job interview, for example, and are new to the system, the time you are allowing for transfers may be inadequate.  The image of successfully dashing across the street to a streetcar from a trolley is easy to get, especially if you have heard our service is frequent.  The reality of the situation is that you need to add 20 minutes for every mode or bus transfer to your first time journey.  As you become familiar to the transfers, transit time can be reduced, such that a trip that may have taken two hours and twenty minutes to complete, can be shaved down to 45 minutes.  

We operators become aware of the places where intending passengers ask us for a destination behind us.  On cross town routes, we see that by a BART station, people board buses going in the opposite direction that they need to reach their destination.  By traveling for fifteen or twenty minutes in the wrong direction, they can add an hour to their travel time.  This is sometimes a sad and frustrating conversation.   It can throw off my concentration of staying alert to road hazards.   This unfocussed energy can be just as harmful to the bus driver as to your missed appointment or interview.  

If you have been given an address, it is important to search this on a map system so you have a good idea about which corner you need to wait.  If a delay creates a gap in trolleys, this lack of knowing where to stand can add twenty minutes fast.  Waiting for the wrong bus, and then changing direction, can create a bombshell at the door of the next bus.  Keep the Zen by knowing which corner to wait.  There can be four different lines on each different corner, with the same bus line going in two different directions on either side.  Such is the case at Jackson and Fillmore, where people chronically wait on Fillmore instead of Jackson to take an outbound 24 to the Castro or Bayview.  Seeing the sign post is not enough.  You need to know which direction the bus is going.  Asking others at the stop is a good idea, especially buses are running late on a weekend afternoon!

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Photography has been a long time passion of mine. Ever since Dad bought me my little Petri camera at K-Mart by the popcorn and hoagie counter, I have enjoyed taking pictures. I would always convert my pictures into slides–and I’m glad I did–this format is easy to convert to digital files in the Facebook age of electronic social media.

Now, I’m selling my photographic art on Flickr, through SamCart on my products page. David Emmons’ webinar link from a YouTube video ad was just the information I was looking for–guys we’re in a totally virtual digital sales world. Changes in the past five years are dramatic–a social distancing and shelter-in-place have only accelerated online shipping and shopping. My friends and closest buddies are artists. I love going to art shows, and finding out what the artist is like.

If you’d like to meet an artist who has done vast amounts of research to find his audience–his peeps who like his work, he has some videos you can see to get an idea of who he is. If you really want to be blitzed like a fan jet sprinkler on the golf greens, check out his webinar link

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=david+emmons

https://event.webinarjam.com/register/4/gmgz8u2

When I get into trouble, it becomes difficult to know what action to take, especially if I am in a rush. Paradoxically, it is when I am in a compromise, that my choice needs to be decisive and clear. If I am not in a good space, I am apt to be in “an accident.” This is no more clearer than when operating large machinery with lots of souls on board, and a rescue vehicle or ambulance emerges on the scene.  

A car tries to overtake on the left, or cuts in front from the right to make a right turn at a congested intersection. This one ideal—to sit back and watch the show, allows us to avoid the odds for a need to “back up” or make an abrupt maneuver that could cause danger or collision.  

Meditation or quiet time on a regular basis about our “show” in life, has helped me immensely in knowing that when the time comes, I am ready to make a choice.  Experience in driving a Muni bus has given me that intuition that can also arise if we take quiet time before our day opens, and when we retire at night. The patterns of my daily journey on the road become predictable, so when I see something different, or that is out of place, I immediately adjust so as to keep a space cushion around the impending threat.  When I was new, I would charge ahead of a taxi picking up or dropping off in the zone, but I have since realized that by pacing myself to the pull-in to the curb, the taxi customer usually alights or departs, and the taxi has room to move away, thus giving me full access to the zone. I also find it easier to find a cab when I am in uniform going home from work!  

I now try to avoid blocking any vehicle in the zone by slowing, and see if the extra time cushion works.  Nine times out of ten, it does.  And then the key was for me to be sparing on the horn.  And sure enough, I rarely need to use it.  And when I do, I try to keep it to a friendly toot and not a ship to ship foghorn!  Blaring does nothing for keeping my serenity, and I usually get a blast back later in the day, as the equation always needs to remain balanced.  I would get awful angry horns when my tail end blocked an intersection because I had rushed ahead in to the zone behind another coach.  I became aware of the frequency of the angry horn directed at me, and I looked at my part leading up to that situation. I also recalled the last time I gave an angry blast at another vehicle, and the hostile energy seemed to be about the same in intensity and force.  So I stopped using the horn and got light on the power pedal. The longer the time passed with me not using the horn, the fewer horns I got. I started applying this invisible karmic ledger to other behaviors I found offensive to me on the road.  When shocked about a car cutting me off, or a flyby or drive-by that seemed scary, I tried to recall when I made a similar action not anticipated by pedestrians or motorists. My compromising situations decreased dramatically. The suggestion to sit back and watch the show,  started to be a working part of my mind, and I got it.

The hardest part of all of this was to be able to check and scan left-right-left every five to eight seconds, and see what was amiss. Construction delays and lane closures were a biggie in realizing that I had to shift my mode of thinking, and drop speed and allow others behind me to react and have time to make the decision to pass before squeeze-play became too immediate and required sharp turns.  I really hate sharp turns in life.   

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