People tell me they like my bus stories. Well, I've got a million of 'em, and you're about to get another one. On July 3, the afternoon before the holiday, I was going to meet a friend downtown for drinks. Busing it, I waited for the 64 on Werk Road, allowing myself plenty of time to get there by 3 p.m. We were meeting at the Public Library downtown, where I could kill a little time before meeting my buddy.   

A few weeks ago, my friend Julie and I were walking the sidewalks of downtown and decided to take a No. 1 bus to Mount Adams. It was a nice spring afternoon, and we wanted to take in the sights up on the hill. While walking in Mount Adams, I couldn’t help but notice all the cars parked on the hilly streets.  

When she walked into Buddakhan bar and restaurant downtown on New Year’s Eve afternoon, I wasn’t paying attention. Sitting at the far end of the bar, I was busy sulking while drinking a vodka and cranberry. I was thinking of my therapist, who tells me I shouldn’t let other people’s negative energy or behavior affect my mood.  

Ramona was driving the 64 Metro bus when I first moved to Westwood in the spring. I have this habit of sitting in the front seat right next to the driver. I don't ever expect the drivers to talk to me, but Ramona did. At first it was polite talk about the weather and traffic and such, but after a while our conversations became more personal. Often times when I'd get on the bus I'd be the only person riding. Those were the days I liked the most. It was like having my own personal taxi driver.  

Let’s face it: Although the price might fluctuate by 15 or 20 cents on any given day, the era of gasoline costing less than $3.50 per gallon is gone for good. And in all likelihood it’s probably safe to increase that threshold by a few dimes.