I'll always live on a bus line

I've never been able to drive.  Brain damage, "crazy" and some potent medication ensure it.  As a small child, I rode the school bus.  As I got older, I walked or rode my bike to school. 

My husband introduced me to the bus.  "You just get on, pay your fare, and sit down.  When you get to the stop you ring the bell and get off.  Say thank you to the driver." 

My special education program had planned to teach me how to ride the bus.  Ugh.  I have problems, but not that bad.  They were furious I figured it out on my own. 

I loved living on the bus line.  I rode to the mall, rode to work, and rode to dates with my future husband.  I was independent. 

When I eloped, we lived on a bus line.  He was blind and couldn't drive.  We'd walk a half mile or so to the bus stop, climb aboard, and go anywhere.  We went to San Francisco.  We went to Oakland.  I went "home" to visit a few times.  All on the bus. 

Any travel involved the bus, unless we walked. 

When we searched for a house, it had to be on a bus line.  That was a given.  I needed my independence in transporation, even though I wasn't riding the bus much at the time. 

So, we got a nice little house in a nice little subdivision, not far from the bus line.  It comes in handy. 

Today my husband refused to go on the Bible Handout.  "We each did what we wanted" he said when I got home.  Well said. 

I walked to the bus stop and took the bus to the Handout, did the Handout, took the bus to the grocery store, saved us a paratransit trip picking up supplies, and saved myself a good $10 on dinner by getting a takeout pizza instead of delivery. 

As I walked down our street, juggling my large tote bag and the pizza, I thought to myself, even if something happened to Ron and I married a man who could drive:

I'll always live on a bus line. 

I need my transportation independence.