Thursday, January 27, 2011
We hate public transportation. There, we said it. And, yes, we probably are drowners of little baby kittens and enemies of Gaia to boot but we cannot shake that innate feeling that whenever we step onto a bus or a trolley it is, to us, a demoralizing, demeaning and dehumanizing experience.
Of course, we're somewhat products of our environment in this respect as we have spent all but 4 years on this planet living in Southern California, the hands-down capital of car culture in America and the world. As such, instead of familiarity it is indeed unfamiliarity that breeds our contempt.
Having to comply with someone else's schedule when we deal with that enough as it is... fear of hopping onto the wrong train or bus... fear of missing our stop... being mildly claustrophobic... just not getting there freaking fast enough... have you ever been able to double-back on a bus when you see a pretty girl walking down the street? (in our youth... in our youth)... no choice in the matter of traveling companions... not being able to figure out the token machines... having ZERO control over the radio
... the list goes on.
In short, public tranportation is the antithesis of freedom. Your individual desires and wants are secondary to that of the collective and central planning which is why it such an anathema to us.
Well, you'd be singing a different tune if you lived in a densely populated metropolis, champ?
Click on over to our blog-buddy Harrison's place, here, and listen to his tale of woe being car-less in that statist paradise of San Francisco.
Related: On the way home from work yesterday, our beloved hoopdie ('99 Toyota Tacoma) rolled over.
Look at her. Our freedom rider. 200 large and only a clutch and timing belt replacement to show for it. Could you ever love a bus in that way?
* That's the view entering Monument Valley from the south out of Kayenta, Arizona.