Getting There

A damp chilly morning, but the air smells beautiful. Fresh, with all the bewitching aromas of the trees and plants and grasses blasting away. Great! A short wait for a ride. I turn down the first offering – a red mini cooper. My 2 previous rides in this car have been terrifying. Like being in a high-speed chase. I defer the ride to the couple behind me (“we’re together”, she says). She is a petite 20-something and he, about the same age, must be at least 6 foot 2. The line up of riders watches while they tuck themselves into the tiny car. The girl gets in the back and then Mr. Tallboy somehow folds himself into the front. As they drive off we see his knees pressed into the dash and he doesn’t look happy.

I’m next and get into the back seat of another red vehicle, but larger, a Jeep SUV. The driver is about 50 and his front seat passenger, already in the car with him, appears to be his mother. He greets me warmly and we chat briefly about the weather then off we go. Plastic covers the floor of the back seat, a Forever 21 shopping bag full of (not Forever 21) clothing sits on the seat next to me. The woman in the front seat starts speaking a rapid fire non stop Spanish monologue which continues for the duration of the trip. I see her ancient hands reflected in the window. They are calloused, worn, hard working hands. She holds a Starbuck’s paper cup and a breakfast bar. A small white plastic cross hangs from the mirror, and numerous religious medals and Lotteria cards decorate the car’s ceiling. A large strawberry shaped air freshner dangles from the car’s ceiling light and is emitting an awful smelling deodorizer, next to a gold sequined butterfly ornament, which is pinned to the ceiling.

Traffic is terrible but not in our happy car pool lane. We hit the bridge at 7:45 along with the sun and arrive in San Francisco at 8 am.

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I’m in the back of a big Nissan suv. A tiny woman is driving and she’s wearing a fabulous cotton turtleneck sweater. The colors are gorgeous – all pastel stripes – pink, yellow, orange, green, blue, gray. A white plastic rosary hangs from the mirror. Her black jacket and a faux-leopard computer case ride near me in the back seat. A small video screen stares up at me from between the front seats.

The sky gets increasingly dark as our trip progresses. Rain is imminent and is forecast for the entire day. Traffic is very heavy this morning. At 7:40 a.m. we round the corner by Golden Gate Race Track and enter the Berkeley ‘corridor’ which is 4 full lanes of traffic crawling towards the Bay Bridge and points beyond. At the end of this corridor, the traffic divides at a complex intersection known as “The Maze”, where freeways 80, 580, and 880 all merge. The 80 freeway, which is my commute, continues on over the Bay Bridge; the 580 and 880 take you to Oakland, Alameda, and the Oakland Airport. As we continue in the carpool lane on towards the bridge, we experience what I consider one of the carpool lane’s finest moments – where we bypass the toll gates and whiz past hundreds of cars slowly oozing through the toll area.

Looks like trouble on the bridge with 3 tow trucks and 2 CHP cars all stopped in the right hand lane, lights flashing madly. Some unknown disaster. Once we’re past them we pick up our speed and are across the bridge and in the city at 8 a.m.

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Vallejo 6:50 a.m.
A few riders and a few cars to go along with them, so no waiting for anyone. As I walk up to the line I see a big tour bus type vehicle parked across the street from the carpool line. A fellow in a black suit and chauffeur’s cap is pitching the bus company’s (Bauer’s) new commuter service. “Free coffee and bottled water, Direct TV, wifi, restroom on board, plus the first trip is free, too!” he tells us. We sign up on his clipboard with our e-mails and contact info so we can get more info – like the cost, which he is unable or unwilling to share this morning. It sounds promising.

My ride is the back seat of a Suburu Highlander. The driver and I discuss the possible bus commute. “Sounds good,” he says and that he would consider it rather than driving, depending on where it drops off and picks up. Hopefully that info will be forthcoming.

It’s a gorgeous spring morning. Cool, but the temperature will be in the 70s later today. The air and sky is swept clean and clear after the days of wind and rains and the view across the bay from Berkeley is even more spectacular than usual. The City and all the buildings look like a postcard picture.

We’re at 65 mph the whole way. A few ducks and sandpipers are mulling around in the Eastshore Park water. Into the city at 7:30 a.m.

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Vallejo 6:45 AM
It’s about 40 degrees this morning, and as I leave the house bundled up in my winter gear I can hear seals barking over in the Carquinez Strait, just a block away. A fellow I used to work with who was a serious fisherman told me “when the seals are barking, the salmon are running”. Hopefully this is an omen that will mean a replenishment of the bay area’s depleted salmon population. It’s a happy sound and I bark along with them for a few bars.

When I’m dropped off at the carpool line it is a LINE this morning. About 50 riders lined up and no cars. Cars pull up in little batches of 2 and 3, and are only taking the required number to qualify for car pool (2 passengers) – even though they have plenty of room for another passenger, or in the case of an SUV 2 or 3 others! Small minded, I’d say. Damn, it’s cold out here and it looks like I won’t have much gym time before I go to work. 20 minutes later it’s my turn. I get into the back seat of a Toyota Corolla and an older gentleman gets into the front. Our driver barely acknowledges us. No good morning for him. He’s a 50-something Asian American and he doesn’t look happy. We pull away from the curb and as we slowly drive by the still long line of waiting riders, a women leans out asking for a ride. “no”, he says emphatically, shaking his head. “No!” Wow what a mean spirited attitude.

There is plenty of room in this back seat which I’m sharing with a box of Kleenex, one of those silver reflector things people put in their windows when they park in the sun, and I see on the floor, sheet music for the Messiah. maybe left over from Easter Sunday? Hard to imagine this guy singing, let alone singing something as rousing and joyous as the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah. No barking for him!

Traffic bogs down and after about a mile I see why – a rear-ender has torn off the entire rear bumper of a car and the crumpled chunk of metal is laying in the center lane, forcing cars to go around it. The 2 cars involved have pulled over to the side and we go past them, picking up speed. Around the corner of the Eastshore Park and the baby Egrets are all out plodding around in the shallow water, their new white feathered selves brilliant against the gray water.

It’s a sparkling sunny morning and as we come across the bridge, the sun momentarily hits the peak of the Transamerica Pyramid building creating a showering ray of light, reminiscent of the old RKO Radio Tower logo. We’re in the city by 7:45.

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