Home > Opinion > Commutants! > Archives > 2005 > November > 09
Wednesday, November 9, 2005
A long, long walk in Gwinnett
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
6 a.m.: on foot in Snellville.
Lots of looks: I am more than a curiosity. I am abnormal.
Snellvillians are fluent in “car”; they do not speak “bus” or “train.” To become a carless commutant, however, I must walk 6.3 miles — 6.3 miles! — from my house near South Gwinnett High School to catch the Gwinnett Transit bus at Ga. 124 and Sugarloaf Parkway. That takes me to Gwinnett Place Mall, where I have to catch a second bus to the AJC’s plant in Norcross.
From my house to the office, one way, takes me almost four hours. I can drive to work in 30 to 45 minutes.
I am nervous. The stars are still out as I leave the house. I can hear the tractor-trailers on U.S. 78. I breathe deeply, give myself a pep talk and set off. Then, in darkness, I trip over the newspaper in my driveway.
I pass a herd of school buses warming up near the school, expelling a cloud of exhaust that hovers overhead, white against the navy sky.
With each crossing of a dangerous road (U.S. 78, Ga. 124, Ronald Reagan Parkway, Sugarloaf Parkway), I feel more confident. It is a wonderful morning, actually — cool, breezy. As the sun rises, I feel even better. I finish the 10K-plus walk in a little more than an hour and a half, and during that time I don’t see another person on foot. I duck into a McDonald’s for coffee, then board the #40, which is right on time.
The first bus ride takes about an hour. The second takes a little longer. By that time, my shoes and socks — wet from the morning walk in tall grass — are making my feet cold, and I am anxious to get to work.
The bus is a tease. Several times we come close to my office, only to turn and wind through other areas before circling back. It reminds me of the dream where you can see the end, you just can’t get there.
At work, the only time I really miss my car is when hunger drives me to the pimento cheese sandwich in the office vending machine. No running out to pick up something when you don’t have a car. Should have packed a lunch.
The ride home is more interesting. My second bus is small, forcing passengers together. Cheryl, my seatmate, eats Reese’s Pieces and reads USA Today. She asks what I thought of Camilla Parker’s hat. I tell her it looks like it could take somebody’s eye out. By the time she got off at Discover Mills, she has shown me her grandson’s photo.
On the walk home, I notice that at times I am going faster than the traffic on Scenic Highway. A member of my church offers me a ride, but I am over halfway home, so I keep going.
Today’s commute was four hours each way. In a fast car, you could commute to Charlotte in four hours. But I didn’t go to another state. I didn’t even go to another county. Still, for $3.50, I saw a different Gwinnett, made a friend and got a workout. Not bad.
Permalink | Comments (16) | Categories: Susan Gast
At 70, she hikes to the bus stop
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Judging from the responses I’ve gotten so far, maybe MARTA should shut down and start from scratch. But then, what would Lorraine Samples do?
Samples, 70, lives near me in South DeKalb. Her husband of 51 years used to drive her most places, but he died last year of lung cancer. Now she rides MARTA almost everywhere. Wednesday, she was on her way to the beauty parlor on Buford Highway where she’s been a customer for 20 years.
The trip takes so long she literally has to pack a lunch. But it’s no picnic. Tiny and stooped, she walks 2.3 miles from her home to the nearest MARTA bus stop with her belongings strapped to a rickety luggage carrier.
Sometimes the bus comes on time. Sometimes it doesn’t. She doesn’t complain, though. “It would cost me $10 to catch a cab. But I’m on a fixed income. I can’t afford that and I don’t want to be stuck at home.” A monthly MARTA pass costs her $52.50.
It takes about a half-hour for Samples to reach the Indian Creek train station by bus. From there, she catches a westbound train to Five Points and then a northbound train to Doraville. After a mile hike to the beauty parlor, she will have traveled for nearly three hours – one way.
Samples was the only white person on the bus this morning. But she says that doesn’t bother her, and despite some of the MARTA horror stories you’ve posted, she’s never had a problem with other passengers. “It’s the way I was raised, I guess. When I was growing up in Cherokee County, my father always taught me that everybody is God’s creation.”
Amen to that. But why in God’s name can’t we create a transportation system that does a better job of serving people like Samples who can’t or don’t drive?
Any ideas?
Permalink | Comments (8) | Categories: Lyle V. Harris
MARTA’s service is good, but too much baggage
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
MARTA’s growth potential is toast. That’s objective. I’ve no problems with MARTA or its train service. Train service is, in fact, far superior to my prior experience of three or four years ago.
From the Holmes station on the West line, the ride to Five Points was fast and comfortable. Cars are beginning to show signs of age. But the interiors are clean. Driver communication is clear and ample. OK, the guy standing five feet away with the music blaring from dangling headphones was annoying. But not intentionally. It is the rudeness of the unschooled too common now in public places.
But, as MARTA speeds along, look out the window at what’s not there on the east or west line. Development. Density. The population of potential riders to justify the investment in a fixed rail system. After 30 years or so, it should have come. It hasn’t. Now it’s never been more unlikely that it will.
Why? Two reasons. One is that Atlanta is a city of neighborhood politics. Developers can buy them off, but they can’t beat them. But even when they have the financial resources to buy them off, there’s reason number two: eminent domain. Congress and the General Assembly will pass laws within the year making it more difficult for government to take private property and transfer it to developers.
So MARTA can continue to take land, but can’t necessarily generate development. No development. No density. No financial justification.
The deeper problem with expansion, though, is race politics. “Economic justice.” “Social justice.” All the agendas piled on. MARTA can’t be just a market-driven transportation system. And until it can, there’ll be no demand for its services outside Fulton and DeKalb.
Permalink | Comments (23) | Categories: Jim Wooten
The bottom line on mass transit
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I’m now convinced the hardest part of riding mass transit (other than rushing to make the last bus of the evening to east Cobb) are the seats. Seriously. Marta train seats are hardly comfortable, but the ones on the Cobb Community Transit buses I’ve been riding are killers. By the time the bus pulls into the Dunwoody Marta station, everyone should be glad to get off. Maybe the bus and train seats are designed to discourage passengers from becoming too comfortable. Maybe I’ll try a stadium cushion.
Permalink | Comments (3) | Categories: David McNaughton
Pipe down already!
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Even having the most hassle-free commute you could ask for — which, in Atlanta, is kinda like having the most comfortable seat on the old Scream Machine at Six Flags — is not without its jarring moments.
Take my ride home Monday evening: Too tired for diversions, I settled back and began to nap about the time the Gwinnett bus lumbered onto the interstate. What seemed like a second later, a loud shriek — OH, MY GOD!!! — jerked me upright and wide awake.
This is it, I thought: After four years, I’m about to be in a bus wreck. I had visions of going through life (if I survived) with KCAM stamped on my forehead (that’s MACK backward, as in the truck). “MY GOD, THAT’S SO EXCITING — I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” some clown shouted into his cellphone, as oblivious to his surroundings as I had been when I was blissfully unconscious.
When I quit shaking and gasping for breath, I was furious.
“I’m excited, too,” I yelled. “Now that I’m … A W A K E”
Everybody laughed. I felt better. But I couldn’t get back to sleep.
Permalink | | Categories: Larry Wilkerson
