Flying to the airshow on the bus

Riding the bus in Sacramento is sort of like living in a small town. You have your little mysteries and your neighbors and your adventures. Even on the weekend.

* * *

The woman set her purse and a package down on a seat and started rummaging for her student ID and money for the bus fare.

"Are you OK," the driver asked.

The woman looked up from her purse and asked, "Are you talking to me?"

"Yes," the driver said. "You have blood on your neck."

"Oh, that," the woman said as she walked back to the fare box. "That's from a long time ago. It's dry now."

She paid her fare and took a seat in the first row of the bus. As she walked toward me, I could see the dried blood on her neck. If she were a guy, I would assume she had nicked herself shaving.

She sat down and busied herself re-ordering her things.

The driver is a nice guy. His concern about an bloodied passenger is not unexpected. He's one of my favorite regular No. 82 drivers.

* * *

A young couple who regularly ride the No. 82 together boarded at the Watt and Chenu stop. They are twenty-something and quiet, but clearly attentive to each other. Today I looked to see if they wore wedding bands. I couldn't tell.

I don't know if the couple ride the bus because they enjoy the savings of not driving a car or ride because they have no choice. But they always appear to be enjoying themselves. They never seem disappointed that they have their time together on the bus.

* * *

The California Capital Airshow is perhaps the one thing everyone agrees Sacramento Regional Transit does well. At least in delivering people to the show.

I arrived at the 65th Street station and waited for the train. Normally on the weekend you would expect at most a two-car train. But today RT was running four cars on the Folsom/Sunrise line. And by the time we arrived at the Mather stop, all four cars were standing-room-only.

The light rail station was cordoned to guide arriving passengers to the buses they would ride to the airshow. I walked from the train right on to a bus. As we left the train station other buses pulled in. No one had more than a two or three minute wait to board a bus.

As we headed to the airshow, all of the intersections along the way had police controlling traffic to enable the buses to travel without delay. When the buses reached the outskirts of Mather Airfield, separate lanes were dedicated for the buses. We whizzed past long lines of traffic waiting to get into the show.

It would have been nice if something could have been done to reduce the long wait to leave. Perhaps having more than three buses board at a time. But the good feelings left over from the excellent arrival arrangement tempered any disppointment during the half-hour wait to board a bus.

* * *

And, of course, no weekend riding Sacramento Regional Transit is complete without the obligatory reminder that on the weekend you get half the bus service you get during the week, if it's available at all.

My No. 82, which runs on a half-hour schedule weekdays, runs just once an hour on the weekend. And that hour didn't align well with my return trip. But there was a bus waiting at the station that got me to within two miles of home, and I walked the final leg of the trip. I got home sooner than if I had waited 40 minutes for the next No. 82, and got some exercise to boot -- a transitarian success of sorts.

Bowling from the bus

The crowd at the bus stop was unusual. In more than a year of riding the bus from my suburban neighborhood to work in midtown, I have never found more than two people waiting at my bus stop.

But there, clearly gathered around the bus stop, was such a crowd that at first I thought something must have happened and that these people were passersby drawn to the tragic scene. That, of course, was just as unlikely as the crowd. First off, there must have been at least a dozen people milling about and you never see that many people walking around. Driving, maybe; walking, no.

As I got closer I realized that this was a crowd of elementary school children and their adult chaperons.

For the adults at the bus stop my arrival was clearly viewed as suspicious. Each mother made sure I knew she was watching. Understandable, I suppose. We are, again, talking about a bus stop amid street after street of ranch houses and manicured lawns. This is not the neighborhood of bus riders.

As I stopped at the fringe of the crowd to await the bus, the teacher put herself between me and the kids. Just in case. And she watched me silently.

Personally, I don't think I'm quite that scary, but I'm told I scowl. I tried smiling at the teacher, and she responded by asking me if I was waiting for the bus.

"Yes," I said. "I'm heading downtown to work."

"We're going bowling," the teacher explained, obviously relieved that I wasn't, after all, a pervert.

The kids in her charge were obviously the best behaved kids in the school. The bowling trip must have been some sort of reward. Those of the kids who weren't sitting quietly on the landscaping rocks around the bus stop were holding hands with their mothers. No horseplay here. It was a bit unsettling. The kids at this bus stop were just too subdued. Maybe there is something to that report of drugs in the water.

Anyway, the bus arrived and everyone boarded. I don't know how school field trips on RT buses work. The teacher had some paperwork that covered all of the children and the parents.

"I just need to know how many kids," the driver said. After the teacher said six, the driver added that number to the fare box, a bell chiming to mark each addition.

At Watt and El Camino, the kids and adults all exited in an excited (in a well-behaved sort of way) stream. It's about a 15-minute bus ride from stop to stop and then a block walk back to the bowling alley. It's so easy, the bowling alley should subsidize the cost of the bus in order to encourage more kids to skip school and bowl.

That was Friday. This is Saturday. I'm writing this in a notebook I carry in my backpack. I'm at the Starbucks just down the block from the bowling alley. It's all something of a grand coincidence since I'm here for a company bowling tournament.

I rode the bus down to the coffee shop. Since the buses run just once an hour on the weekend, I ended up here 40 minutes early. Oh well, such is the life of a transitarian.

I like taking the bus on the weekend because it's a free ride. Not free exactly, but since the value of my monthly bus pass is predicated on the cost of getting to and from work, any trips I take on the weekend using the pass are "free."

Perhaps I'll go to the air show on Sunday.

How safe is Sacramento RT park and ride service?

Today, at around 5:25 p.m., a person who accessed the Internet from a computer on Intel's network (fmfwpr03.fm.intel.com), went looking on Google to find out "how safe is sacramento RT park and ride service."

Of course, the "Regional Transit Police Services - Crime Prevention Tips" and the "Laws & Rules - Sacramento Regional Transit," which were No. 1 and No. 2 on Google's search results, were never going to answer that question.

And so the person landed on my blog post "Ins and outs, but mostly ins (knock on wood)," which includes the line "... and that was only as far as the nearby light rail park-and-ride station. Every other day I've been able to rely on Sacramento Regional Transit. ..."

At 5:27, Anonymous posted a comment asking, "Can you please tell me how safe is to park the car at RT park & Ride locations, for 8 to 5 timing."

Ever the helpful transitarian, I offered this reply:

I take the bus from my house to light rail and then to work. Or I take two buses. So I don't have daily experience with park-and-ride lots.

However, on those occasions when I have driven to a park-and-ride lot, I have returned to find my car unmolested.

RT has contract security guards at all park-and-ride lots. Of course, there was that problem in Rancho Cordova where the contract guards were caught stealing video game boxes from cars, but that's the exception that proves the rule. Maybe.

Bottom line: Parking your car anywhere for an extended period has its risks. RT tries to reduce those risks. I have no problem recommending that people park their cars and jump on light rail, especially if you work regular daytime hours. If you work nights and pick up the car after midnight -- which I have done twice in the last year -- it is a little lonely out there, but no more threatening than any lonely place at midnight.

When I got home, however, I decided I would try Crimemapper, the Sacramento Bee's interactive map of crime reports. This is more interesting than state worker salaries.

For a test, I tried the 8900 block of Folsom, which is adjacent to the Watt/Manlove light rail park and ride station. The database allows you to set the distance from the location. I set the radius at 500 feet. Obviously a circle 1000 feet in diameter includes both sides of Folsom and areas beyond the park and ride lot. Fortunately, the map pinpoints where the crime reports were filed.

Between March 1, 2007, and Feb. 29, 2008, there were eight larcenies, one assault, nine burglaries (vehicles, businesses and homes) and two robberies. There was an assault and a larceny at the corner of Folsom and South Watt and a petty theft and a "casualty" report near the station. Total police reports in the area: 54.

Now, let's put this in some perspective and compare that with the crime statistics for the area around Arden Way and Heritage Lane, the main entrance to Arden Fair Mall.

In the same 12 month period, there were four auto thefts, three assaults, 19 burglaries of all types, 45 larcenies, a drug bust and an illegal weapon charge. Total reports: 100.

So, you're safer parking your car at the light rail station and taking the bus to the mall.

Of course, if you want to be safe, you won't drive at all.

Highway accidents claimed more than 43,000 lives in 2005 and injured more than 2.7 million Americans. By contrast, only 185 people died in accidents with transit vehicles.

A Better Way to Go
Meeting America’s 21st Century Transportation
Challenges with Modern Public Transit
CalPIRG Education Fund Report, Page 14

Let The Church Roll On

If a member in the church
and he won't do right
tell me what we gonna do
have a meeting, put him out
Let the church roll on

Yes, brothers and sisters, these are Good Times!

On March 10, the American Public Transportation Association announced that transit ridership last year reached levels not seen in 50 years.

"Americans took 10.3 billion trips on public transportation in 2007, representing a 2.1% increase over the previous year," the APTA announced.

And on the same day, Placer County's Placer Commuter Express bus service announced that it had become so popular that it would have to limit ticket sales to existing customers and start a waiting list for people who have come to transit and want to be saved. Thank you, transit.

Yes, it is a glorious time. But not everywhere. Not here in River City.

No. We have a member and he won't do right. Tell me what we gonna do?

OK. That's as far as I can take this without distracting from the point.

Sacramento Regional Transit has a real problem. While the nation was reporting record ridership, RT's combined light rail and bus ridership fell last year by 2.08 percent. While the Yolo County Transportation District saw bus ridership increase 6.09 percent and Elk Grove's transit service saw a 24.54 percent increase, RT's bus ridership fell 5.20 percent.

In 2000, RT buses carried 65,400 riders on average each weekday. Last year, the buses carried just 57,700.

Yes, thanks to light rail and the expansion into Folsom and Meadowview, train ridership has increased since 2000 from an average 28,800 each weekday to last year's 53,500 average. But with the decline in bus riders, the overall increase in ridership between 2000 and 2007 has done little more than match the percentage increase in the population in Sacramento County.

Sacramento Regional Transit's bus service is in dire need of improvement. Without it, transit can't possibly meet the needs of area residents.

Let me underline the problem with RT's bus service with a real-life example.

The No. 82 bus stops less than 100 yards from my front porch. I can take that bus to the 65th Street light rail station and arrive at work in a little more than an hour. A lengthly commute, but I put the time to good use. The full fare of $2.25 (which I don't pay because I have a monthly pass) is a significant savings from the $4.68 estimated cost of driving.

The wife would like to take the same bus and go to work. But she doesn't work downtown and that is a real problem, a problem that RT is doing nothing to fix. At least it is doing nothing riders can see.

If my wife wanted to get to work at 9 a.m., she would need to catch the 6:56 a.m. No. 82 and ride all the way to 65th Street and then take light rail to Sunrise and backtrack on the No. 74, arriving at an intersection a half-mile from her office at 8:42 a.m. She could cut 10 minutes from the travel time if she didn't mind leaving at 5:57 a.m. and arriving at 7:39. The $4.25 fare is hardly better than the estimated cost of driving the same distance, $4.68.

It is not hard to imagine why bus ridership has fallen four years in a row, according to APTA figures. In 2006, it fell 4.31 percent. In 2005, it fell 3.30 percent. Bus ridership hasn't increased since 2001, when bus ridership grew 3.15 percent.

Light rail is great, but a light-rail only system is unbalanced. It can't produce the sorts of savings that a well-run, option-filled system can provide. RT can do better.

* * *

Now for a postscript: I have to explain where the Mahalia Jackson video fits into this.

When I was growing up in the suburban wasteland of the San Fernando Valley in the late 1950s, our household lacked a number of modern conveniences. Besides not having a father, we didn't have a TV. We had a record player, but we had just three records. One was Handel's Messiah. Another was a collection of Frank Sinatra tunes. And the final record was something by Mahalia Jackson. Included on that album was the song "Let The Church Roll On."

So today, I couldn't resist continuing with this preacher shtick when I decided to write about the wayward RT bus system. And the first thing that popped into my head was "a deacon in the church and he won't do right." I was thrilled when I was looking for the song and found the video on YouTube.

Since I never did find the lyrics to Let The Church Roll On as Mahalia Jackson sings the song, I've transcribed them here:

Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on

Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on

If a member in the church
and he won't do right
tell me what we gonna do
have a meeting, put him out
Let the church roll on

Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on

If a member in the choir
and he won't sing right
tell me what we gonna do
have a meeting, put him out
Let the church roll on

Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on

If a member in the church
and he won't do right
tell me what we gonna do
have a meeting, put him out
Let the church roll on

Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on
Let the church roll on

If a deacon in the church
and he won't do right
tell me what we gonna do
have a meeting and put him out
Let the church roll on

If a preacher in the church
and he won't preach right
tell me what me what we gonna do ...
I'm gonna have nothing to do with that
But let the church roll on

Actually, the roll on part fits well. Perhaps I'll make it the official transitarian hymn.

A Better Way to Go on the bus

Rather than preach to the sinners driving alone to and from work, frustrated by crowded roads and wasting money while endangering the environment, I will address myself to the choir: Transit advocates and anyone who wishes to see a viable, modern alternative to the automobile, should download a copy of the CalPIRG Education Fund's report, "A Better Way to Go: Meeting America's 21st Century Transportation Challenges with Modern Public Transit."

Don't just read the five page executive summary. Take the time to read all 76 pages.

"The Interstate highway system is now completed. And we simply do not need, and cannot afford—either financially, environmentally, or in terms of energy security—to continue to make massive investments in new highway infrastructure.

"The time has come for the United States to prioritize the modes of transit that were neglected during the highway building boom of the mid- to late 20th century — transit, inter-city rail, bicycling and walking, among others. State and federal leaders should shift their priorities for new transportation infrastructure investment away from highways and toward clean transportation alternatives."

For the next few days I will using CalPIRG's report as a jumping off point to preach to the sinners and to rally support.

"Building a modern, efficient transit system for the 21st century isn’t going to happen overnight and it is not going to be easy. It will take vision, resources, public support and political will. To get there, transit advocates must create a vision of transit as a national priority, present a roadmap for future transit expansion to the American people, and identify the resources it will take to make that vision a reality."

The Pact on the bus

Finished "The Pact: Bill Clinton, Newt Gingrich, and the Rivalry that Defined a Generation" by Steven M. Gillon, the resident historian of the History Channel and professor of history at the University of Oklahoma. This is a must-read for anyone interested in government, and it is especially important when considering the race for the Democratic Party's nomination for president this year.

The book, which is being published by Oxford University Press, won't be released until June. I got my copy of the Uncorrected Advance Reading Copy off the discard pile at work. Everyone figured a book about Bill Clinton and Newt Gingrich couldn't have much relevance. Just goes to show you really can't judge a book by its cover.

Gillon has written a well-researched account of the secret partnership between a Democrat who sought to move his party to the middle and a firebrand Republican who harbored visions of a transformed government -- and the tragedy that befell both men because Clinton couldn't keep his zipper closed.

Liberals who disagreed with President Clinton's welfare reform effort or the balanced budget agreement he reached with Republicans will find the book cloyingly approving of those efforts. Conservative Republicans who feel distaste for any deal that compromises principles to gain support will find the book and Gingrich a great disappointment. And supporters of Hillary Clinton will want this book to disappear.

On one level, the book is a tale of the battles of the cultural revolution that began in the 1960s -- the fans of Elvis vs. the fans of John Wayne. As Gillon explains in the preface, "When I started working on this book my plan was to use Clinton and Gingrich as metaphors for the intense partisan divisions that shaped the politics of the 1990s." But in researching the book Gillon discovered that Clinton and Gingrich had been on the brink of forging a coalition of conservative Democrats and moderate Republicans, a 60 percent majority that would have provided the support necessary to pass long-term Medicare and Social Security reform.

"Clinton was looking for a bold initiative in his final years that would define his presidency, answer critics who claimed he had failed to make a lasting imprint on the office, and encourage historians to rank him among the nation's 'great' presidents," Gillon writes. "For his part, Gingrich was also thinking about how history would remember him. His idol was Henry Clay, the nineteenth-century Whig Speaker of the House who used his influence to expand American power abroad and preserve the Union at home. Gingrich wanted to be remembered as a great statesman, not just as a conservative firebrand rebel and mastermind of the 1994 Republican takeover of Congress."

On the evening of Oct. 28, 1997, Gingrich and Arnie Christenson, Gingrich's chief of staff, met with the president, White House chief of staff Erskine Bowles and the administration's legislative director John Hilley.

"Both sides went to great lengths to maintain secrecy," Gillon writes. "The president did not tell his vice president, the Democratic leadership in the House, or even his wife, about the meeting." The official photograph of the meeting wasn't declassified until November 2007 after Gillon's freedom of information request.

What did Clinton and Gingrich have in mind?

"In private conversations with Gingrich and with Texas Republican Bill Archer, powerful head of the House Ways and Means Committee, the president promised to 'provide political cover' for Democrats and Republicans by announcing his support for raising the minimum age required for Social Security and for changing the COLA formula. The president was willing to oppose the leadership of his own party and support the Republican demand for private accounts. Although most Republicans planned to use the surplus for a massive tax cut, Gingrich privately accepted the administration's position that the surplus should be used first to save Social Security 'for all time,' with any remaining amount used for a tax break."

Four months later, the revelations of Clinton's affair with Monica Lewinsky abruptly ended any possibility of bipartisan work on any issue, let alone such sensitive topics as Social Security and Medicare.

Even casual readers of this blog know that I am a supporter of Barack Obama, and in particular an enthusiastic fan of his efforts to reach across the partisan divide in order to make government work. When Clinton was president, I reluctantly supported his welfare reform efforts. My sentiments were not unlike those of conservative Republicans who gave grudging support to President Nixon's efforts in China. If you are going to have welfare reform, I figured, it's better to have a Democrat in charge, balancing the limits on welfare with job training for welfare recipients and subsidized child care.

But it was as I read this book that I realized just how much the country lost with the stain on Monica's blue dress. In fighting his removal from office, the president had to seek refuge in the left extreme of his party while Gingrich was forced to adhere to the will of a cadre of unbending Republican conservatives he had brought to Congress. Gone was any chance of a middle way, and we have been paying for that to this day.

This is not a book that either Gingrich or Clinton wants published.

Gillon found a brief window of opportunity after the 2004 election when the two men were willing to allow the story of their past effort to work together to be uncovered, but as maneuvering for the 2008 elections began that window closed.

"By 2006, ... with his wife gearing up for her own run at the presidency, Clinton shifted gears," Gillon explains. "He had once seen himself as a post-partisan politician, as the man who would blur ideological differences between Democrats and Republicans. Now the master of triangulation pushed Democrats to assume the ideological offensive against Republicans. With his wife locked in a tough primary battle the president was determined to help broaden her appeal to traditional Democratic voters. Telling the party faithful that he had once tried to form a coalition with a man most of them despised was not part of the message."

Not only does the former president not want his efforts publicized, but he also doesn't want to reveal just how limited that "experience" was that his wife touts on the campaign trail.

One of the singular achievements of the Clinton administration was the balanced budget deal he and Gingrich hammered out after the Republicans had suffered major public relations disasters by shutting down the government twice. Hillary's role?

"For liberals, the only remaining ally in the White House was Hillary Clinton. While she was an influential voice in the first few years, she was largely excluded from policy discussions after the health care fiasco. She was much less generous toward Gingrich than her husband, viewing him as part of the right-wing conspiracy that was out to destroy his administration. But she was largely absent from the inner circle after 1994, directing her attention outward, traveling around the world, condemning policies that discriminated against women. Her most high-profile domestic initiative after the health care debacle was a book about the White House pets called 'Dear Socks, Dear Buddy.' [Erskine] Bowles gracefully made clear to the president that he would prefer she keep a low profile during the second term."

Barack Obama's name never appears in the book, but he comes off as the true heir to the New Democrat mantle, the best choice to restore the nation's hope that something more than partisan differences should be the focus of government.

It's time to turn the page.

Social skills of a transitarian

A neighbor was waiting at the bus stop when I arrived this morning. She's new to the area.

"Do you know when the next bus arrives," she asked.

"About five minutes," I said.

"Great timing then," she replied.

Ever the overly helpful, overexplaining transitarian, I offered an impromptu summary of the bus service at our stop: "It's every half-hour except after the fourth bus, there's an extra 15 minute delay. So sometimes there's 45 minutes between buses."

"That's good to know," she said.

I then told her how she could purchase a book of all of Sacramento Regional Transit's bus routes for just $1 at RT's customer service office near the 13th Street light rail station. I even pulled out my copy of the book from my backpack to show her.

She was kind enough not to laugh at me.

When the No. 82 bus arrived, the driver and the woman greeted each other by first name.

"How are you today," the driver asked.

"Oh, I'm on my way to get some dental work done," she said as she fed dollar bills into the fare box. "I'll be better after that."

I waved my pass at the driver and made my way to the back of the bus. My neighbor took a seat just inside the door and for the next several minutes she and the driver had an animated conversation.

When the bus arrived at 65th Street, the driver alerted my neighbor that her No. 34 bus was just arriving and she would need to hurry a little to catch it. As I walked over to the No. 38, I saw my neighbor heading for the No. 34. She made it in plenty of time.

I've worked around politicians off and on over the years. I've always been amazed at how a natural politician can meet and greet people, remembering names and conversational tidbits that make the connection personal. It's a talent I just don't have.

"Don't be so grumpy," the wife tells me.

"Harrumph," I harrumph.

Blue funk

I've been in a blue funk for nearly a week. I lost my wallet last Thursday. I know when I last made a purchase. And I know when I first realized the wallet was missing.

For two days I hunted high and low around my house and at work. Nothing. I even made a trip to work on the bus Saturday to look again. No luck.

Sunday I started closing the credit cards. I figured that was the best way to locate the wallet. As soon as you close the cards, they magically reappear. This is similar to the way turning off your heater's pilot light or putting away the comforter will cause a weeklong spring cold snap. Closing the credit cards didn't return the wallet.

So on Monday I decided to get a new driver's license. I tried the appointment option. Two weeks was the earliest I could get in. Don't think so.

There's a DMV less than two miles from my house, but getting there on the bus and then to work is just too complicated. Sure, I could walk to DMV and then walk to a bus route, but the DMV on Broadway is on the No. 38 route and I often take the No. 38 from the 65th Street Transit Center when I don't want to wait for the inbound train.

Now to understand the depth of my blue funk you must first appreciate that it took not one, not two, but three trips to DMV to order a replacement driver's license. I'm not blaming DMV; it was all my fault. Shortly after I arrived Monday and I was filling out the paperwork, it dawned on me that I didn't have a wallet. No wallet meant I didn't have any money. That night I found two credit cards in a drawer and so Tuesday I returned to DMV, only to learn that DMV doesn't take credit cards. ATM or cash; no credit. That was all just as well since I later discovered at Safeway that the credit cards were expired. Really, I wasn't paying attention. It was a good thing I wasn't driving. This is how accidents happen.

Finally, today I arrived with enough cash to cover the $22 driver's license replacement fee and enough left over to buy some fruit at Safeway on the way to work.

Being a transitarian has a lot of advantages when dealing with DMV, even when you have to deal with it three times. After all, anyone who enjoys stretching a 20-minute solo commute into an hour of reading is going to find three 45-minute waits in the DMV office hardly worth mentioning. Needless to say, I got lots of reading done.

I did have a little good fortune in all of this. The No. 82 that I take to 65th Street is scheduled to arrive at 8:53 a.m. The No. 38 is scheduled to depart at 8:58. In a year of riding Sacramento Regional Transit buses, I have learned that a five-minute window of opportunity is very narrow, especially during commute hours. It's nice when it works, but can you count on it?

In three days that I needed to make the connection, the No. 82 arrived 65th Street at 8:53 just one day -- today. On Monday, it arrived at 8:57. The No. 38 was already boarding passengers, and as soon as I boarded, it departed. On Tuesday, the No. 82 didn't arrive at 65th Street until 9 a.m. But when I got off the bus and looked south on 65th Street, I could see the No. 38 in the distance on its way to the transit center. Serendipitous latest all around.

The bus -- a musical

The sound of music floated in the air of the No. 82 bus. Like a smell, it was hard to pick out exactly where it was coming from. Mostly, the sound seemed to be coming from in front of me. I was tempted to look at the bottom of my shoe.

This was odd. Normally, I can pinpoint the source of music on the bus. Worst of all are the jerks with the cellphone MP3 players. The tiny tinny speakers butcher the music. Forced to listen is like being twice abused -- first the aural intrusion and then the crappy quality.

Anyway, I tried to read my book but the music wouldn't go away. I have a handicap that severely limits my ability to read when I hear music with lyrics. Instrumental music is fine. At work I listen to classical. At home I play jazz. But words when I'm reading intrude.

Seated immediately in front of me was a guy with headphones on, his head resting on the seatback in front of him. Across from me was a guy with earbuds stuffed in his ears who was texting on his phone. I could pick out at least three other riders who were listening to their personal music. But the sound I was hearing clearly wasn't coming from headphones.

As the bus made its way along its long, winding route from the 65th Street station toward American River College, people kept leaving but the music remained. And eventually it dawned on me that the reason the driver wasn't yelling to have the music turned off was because the driver was playing the music.

As the bus emptied, the music seemed to grow louder. It certainly intruded more. Before I left the bus, two people moved from the front of the bus to the back. If they were trying to get away from the music they were disappointed.

When I left the bus, the driver said, "Thank you for riding Regional Transit."

I couldn't think of a snappy comeback so I just left.

I hope music isn't going to be a regular feature of riding Sacramento Regional Transit.

Heroes of My Time on the bus

Finished reading Harrison Salisbury's "Heroes of My Time." This is a thin volume published in 1993. The book is one of several I picked out from the collection of a former neighbor who is getting rid of her inventory from her days as an online bookseller.

Salisbury profiles 20 people in the 201 pages. These are not the heroes of Salisbury's lifetime as much as they are heroic people he met during his years with the New York Times.

I have included only heroes whom I have known personally or whom I have learned to know well at second remove. This limits me somewhat geographically to areas where I have spent most of my years -- the United States, Russia and China.

There are plenty of famous people among these heroes -- Robert Kennedy, Aleksandr Solzhenitzyn, Malcom X, Nikita Khrushchev, Andrei Sakharov and Zhou Enlai. And since Salisbury was a journalist, he offers up several icons: David Halberstam, Homer Bigart, Iphigene Ochs Sulzberger and Edgar Snow. It is the choice of lesser heroes that is most striking: Brigid Temple Keoghan, an Emmet nun and university professor in China; Sister Huang Roushan, who cared for lepers in China; and Dan Xiaoping's son, Deng Pufang, who was crippled during the chaos of the Cultural Revolution and went on to change China's attitude about the handicapped.

Perhaps one day I will write about my heroes on the bus. There was the lady the other day who helped the auto mechanic get to Florin Road. I would also include the driver who waited while a passenger ran across the street to get change. And, of course, no collection of my heroes would be complete without the gentleman on the bus who saw a young mother struggling with an infant in one arm and a bulky stroller and ran off the bus to help the woman board.

No, not as exciting as Salisbury, but heroes nonetheless.