Getting There

Vallejo 7:25 AM

Today I’m in the huge back seat of a very wide pick up truck.  As I walk up to the truck, the lady in the front passenger seat leans out the tinted window and signals me to go around to the other side.  I climb up into the rear seat behind the driver and see why.  There are 2 child seats anchored to the back seat.  No children there today, just coats and a briefcase.

Looks like Dad is driving, wearing a great hat with a feather tucked into the band, and the passenger in the front seat looks to be his teen-aged daughter.  She’s furiously texting into her I Phone and nodding her head to the rhythms she hears through her ear phones.  The car is very tidy, unusual for a car that transports small children.

Rain sprinkles on and off and traffic is S L O W  – even in the carpool lane.  KGO radio has a long section about the Toyota recall.

On the wide armrest between the two front seat passengers sits a slim cellophane package of the small Hostess donuts.  As we approach Berkley, the daughter opens them up and she and her Dad eat several.  It’s 8 AM and we’re rounding the the corner onto the Bay Bridge approach.  A stunning view of the City across the water.  The sun is shining through the fog and rain, spotlighting the Marin hills.  The daughter loves the view too, and as we crawl across the bridge, she rolls down her window and starts snapping photos with her I Phone.  She’s loving the view and laughing as she clicks one photo after the other.

Traffic picks up as we pass a stalled car in the right hand lane (THAT’S why we were moving so slowly) and we roll into the City.

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Vallejo Monday morning 7:20

A short chilly wait.  My ride is an aging Mercedes Sedan driven by a double for John Candy in a leather jacket. His hair is longish, but neatly slicked back.   His friend in the front seat, an African American, is wearing a jaunty tweed cap – he’s a big guy too, but not as big.  He’s leaning his smooth brown arm against the window and I see a silver link bracelet on his wrist.  It’s a beautiful bracelet and I love it.  These guys are serious, intense and although sinister is too strong a word, there’s something a little ‘dark’ about them.  Like they’re professional jewel thieves or bank robbers.  Ocean’s 11 comes to mind.   They’re perfunctorily polite to me, then go back to their conversation.

I sink into the luxury of the old Mercedes back seat.  There’s a couple of cardboard boxes on the seat, a fake leather briefcase and a leather vest.

Traffic is heavy but moving, and we in the carpool lane are moving even faster.

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Vallejo 7:25 AM

One of the down sides of casual carpooling can be the uncertainty of who you share your ride with. (It can also be one of the more interesting and pleasant aspects of this experience.) Most of the time – almost all of the time – there’s no problem. As I’ve said before, there’s a kind of comaraderie in this situation and everyone tries to make it as good as they can. But once in awhile . . . . like today for example.

I crawl into the back seat of a 2-door BMW. The couple in the front seat appear to be together. Once we hit the freeway, I begin to feel uneasy. The driver revs it up to 80 mph, working the manual transmission, tailgates whenever he comes up on anyone daring to only do the speed limit of 65, and goes even faster to pass cars in front of us. From my seat I can easily read the speedometer. Finally I stop looking at it. I can’t hear the bits of conversation between the couple, but I gather, from the driver’s gestures at other cars and his general tone, that he’s commenting and critiquing other cars on the freeway, especially other BMWs we pass.

This car is who this guy is and in a scary sort of way. I don’t like him and I don’t like his car. Finally he’s forced to slow down once we hit the heavy traffic near Berkeley, and I relax a bit.

We arrive in San Francisco at 7:55. Phew. A bad ride.

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Vallejo Carpool

On Tuesday I drove – I haven’t done that in awhile.  A friend needed a ride for an early morning medical appointment at UCSF, and  we stopped to pick up our third passenger at the carpool line.    Before we left I tidied up the car, filled the tank with gas, cleaned off the windows.  My friend was too tired and apprehensive to carry on a conversation, and the rider in the back seat quickly fell sound asleep, so my drive was a quiet one.  Traffic was fairly light and we made good time.   I felt more tired than usual as I walked into work – negotiating the 80 freeway commute is tense work.  No napping, reading, or leisurely looking out the window when you’re the driver.

Coming back home that evening, I picked up two passengers at the Beale Street line, and again was lucky to be in relatively light traffic.  The problem with that is with fewer cars on the freeway, people like to go faster, and many people think the car pool lane is the speedball lane, so although I was doing 65 – 70, I had several impatient tailgaters come up behind me.  My riders both fell asleep, and as I drove along I thought how trusting people are.  I could be Mad Max at the wheel for all they know.  I felt a deep sense of responsibility and a shiver of fear.  I’m not Mad Max, but I’m just a carpooler myself.  I have no invisible shield of protection out there on that freeway.  These two ladies trusted me and the system to get them home safely, and that’s what we did.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 3, Vallejo 7:25 AM

I’m a rider again today – in the back seat of a TOYOTA HIGHLANDER!  One of the killer cars!   Maybe this is why the driver is driving in such a chaotic way – she ‘s hesitant and uncertain, impulsively stomps on the gas from time to time.  Get focused, lady!  Her rosary hangs from the rear view mirror and I hope that whatever powers it has will deliver us safely to the City.  Sitting next to me, inexplicably, on the back seat, is a very tiny blue,  plastic dog – about an inch tall.  It falls over from time to time as we swerve along, and I prop it back up.  Every few miles the driver opens her window, which shoots lots of cold air into the back seat.  I think she’s having a tough time with the ride today.  After making this drive myself yesterday – twice – I don’t know how drivers can do this day after day.  It’s nerve frazzling and a stressful way to start out and end a work day.

The casual carpooling experience creates an unexpected sort of bonding between all of us participants.  We rely on each other for our daily journeys, trusting each other and our fellow commuters to reach our destinations.  Thank you to all of you.

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