On September 16, just 4 days shy of my 30th birthday, I crashed my car. Yes, me...it was all my fault. Driving westbound on a main street during rush hour traffic as the hot white Arizona sun blazed through my windshield, I hit the back of a Toyota SUV with my 1993 Chevy Lumina. The car was only worth about $2200 and the damages totaled out to $3880. So what does that spell? Altogether now: COMPREHENSIVE LOSS! The insurance company decided to total out the car and offered a cool $97 if I agreed to fork it over to them. I declined and my husband and I decided to fix it ourselves. It would take a little while but it would be 90% cheaper than the body shop. A friend loaned us her car to use until we could get our car fixed but, alas, it too broke down.
So after a weekend of staying home, agonizing over work week transportation, I took the bus to work yesterday. It was actually pretty cool, me having been a seasoned bus rider for many years. I took the commuter bus, which is all plush and clean with reclining seats and cupholders and overhead bins for laptops and briefcases and such. Yeah, it was cool to hit the freeway in the 60 seat limo, cruising in the HOV lane, glad that I wasn't stuck in stuck and go traffic in some gas guzzling SUV. I made it to work in 15 minutes with a short 5 minute walk to the office. It wasn't as convenient as driving, but it wasn't as torturous as I'd thought.
Then today came. And I missed the bus. Well, actually I was too afraid to take the commuter bus today. I take my son to work on alternate days and today was his day to go with mommy. I felt too self-conscious to lug the 20 lb. stroller and 15 lb. car seat on that luxurious 18 foot vessel. I was nervous, fearful that the well coiffed, suited and booted passengers would look upon me with disdain as I held up their smooth morning commute trying to find a spot that would accomodate a car seat, stroller, diaper bag, and backpack. After all, commuter buses are made for business folks, not young working mothers with infants in tow. I know that was foolish thinking and insecurity on my part, but I had to honor my feelings. And so, my husband agreed to ride the bus with me all the way to work and we stood on the opposite side of the street and watched the 60 seat limo pass us by.
It took 2 buses to get to work. The first one was narrow, the kind I hate, with all the seats facing each other in parallel rows that run the length of the bus. It's awful because you have no choice but to spend the entire bus ride pretending to look out the window while the person across from you does the same and you just end up staring at each other. I scraped a few kneecaps trying to maneuver the stroller and stepped on a few toes, literally. But we made it to the transfer point. There, we boarded and our fellow commuters made way for all 3 of us to sit together, me clutching the stroller, fearful that it might roll to the front with each sudden stop. Along the way, my husband made me laugh and regaled me with stories of his bus riding adventures. He is a happily unlicensed adult who is perfectly content with mass transportation. With that being said, he has lots of stories to tell. We grinned and I laughed until my stomach started to ache. I felt more secure having him there and felt good when he said he'd ride with me and the baby every day until the car is fixed.
Once at our final stop, he walked me all the way to my building since the bus driver ignored our initial request and let us off 2 stops down the line. It was nice, taking in the cool morning air, looking at all the new construction, marveling at how much downtown is changing. The baby fell asleep as we made the 3/4 mile trek to the office. I almost reached out and grabbed my husband's hand to hold it for the remainder of the trip, but I resisted. Stroller driving is a complex task and I didn't want to surrender good steering hand. But our walk was nice. My husband and I used to take walks all the time when we first married and during my first and second trimesters. This morning took me back to those days.
When we reached the corner where my office stands, he turned to me and gave me a gentle kiss. We exchanged salaams and he was off, headed toward the bus stop. As he walked away, I could still smell his musk oil in the air and I smiled. Taking the bus for a little while might not be so bad after all.
