"Leave the Driving to Us" Part 1

Back in the sixties the Greyhound Bus Company had the snappy slogan “Leave the driving to us!” which supposedly encouraged millions of folks to climb happily aboard an aging fleet of diesel fume spewing, noisy clunkers.  Today’s buses, at least the ones I rode yesterday, are not nearly as noisy or pollution producing as those of the good old days.  But bus travel today is not for sissies.

We decided on using the bus after calculating the costs of driving two cars up to northern New York. This decision arrived when we found out that my dear wife needed to be back to work before our “elder care” mission was accomplished.  We looked at flying.  We looked at Amtrak.  The bus promised a long day’s travel but it was also comparatively cheap, especially with a substantial senior discount.  And since my wife is a girl, a natural born sissy, (I'm in trouble now) I figured it would be better if I took the bus and let her drive the car home.  And there was a little poetic incentive for me to travel this way as it was thirty-four years ago on a Memorial Day weekend when I made the journey from our home in western New York to Dover, DE as we prepared to uproot the family and start a new chapter of our lives.

So I went online to buy bus tickets.  I was able to search the schedules and fares but when I tried to complete a purchase the computer told me I needed to buy the tickets at the departure location. There was no explanation.  The company website just said “Transaction cannot be completed online.  Please see clerk at departure location.”  That should have raised a red flag but I’m a trusting soul so I went to the “Bus Station” to complete my transaction. 

The bus station in Malone, NY is a picnic table in front of an old single story motel up on the west side of town.  The ticket clerk is also the motel check-in, check-out clerk inside the little office.  She has a computer.  She looked up all the information I gave her from my search and said “Okey-dokey, give me the cash and I’ll give you your tickets.”  And so I did.  She also told me that on the day I was to board the bus that I should be there at least twenty minutes early because the bus schedule wasn't one-hundred percent accurate and the bus could be a little early or a little late.  Also, she said the bus was only at the stop for five or six minutes and it was important to be in the right spot or the driver might not notice and he would just pull on through and go on his way.  More red flags should have been flying.

The day arrived for departure and my brother brought me to the appropriate picnic table.  I didn't have to worry about the driver passing by because there were many other passengers waiting to board.  Coming out of the ticket office were eight husband and wife teams of Amish folks along with three or four of their offspring.  Following along behind that crowd were ten men who had just been released from the local prisons.  (Prisons are the largest industry and employer in Franklin County, NY)  It’s not hard to know the ex-cons as they all wear a standard prison-issue release uniform – bright white cheap low cut tennis shoes, cheap loose fitting khaki slacks, and a stiff white long-sleeved shirt hanging loosely over a fresh white t-shirt.  All of that and several “prison tats” on their necks and arms identified their general fashion motif as “hoodlum chic”.

So we all climbed aboard as the driver, a friendly and efficient fellow, handled bag storage and paperwork duties in a matter of minutes.  And we were off.  This particular bus, the only south bound carrier from Malone, travels down through the Adirondack Mountains following winding scenic byways.  And this bus makes a lot of stops.  We stopped in Paul Smith’s, Saranac Lake, and Lake Placid.  Then we stopped at a little crossroads where we had a lunch break at the Mt. Severance Country Store and Deli, very nice and very reasonable.  We proceeded on to Schroon Lake, Warrensburg, and Lake George.  At Lake George the bus disgorged all of our Amish friends.  Apparently they were there for a pray-and-play convention retreat weekend.  At least that’s the only reason I could come up with for Amish folks in a resort town like Lake George.

At every stop, no matter how brief, all of the ex-cons hustled off the bus and lit cigarettes.  They sucked that noxious smoke into their lungs just as deeply and as quickly as they could.  Prison must be a great place to really reinforce those wonderful social habits.  But cigarettes are about eight bucks a pack up in the North Country.  How did these jailbirds make enough money to feed a two pack a day habit?  But I digress.

In Warrensburg we picked up several earnest looking young women in woodsy outfits who had just spent ten days hiking in the deep woods.  Their Deep Woods Off had let them down though.  They were all covered with some nasty looking mosquito and black fly bites that looked really itchy.  Our chariot then moved on to Saratoga Springs, Glens Falls, the Albany Airport and then, finally, the bus station in downtown Albany, NY.  If I were to make the drive from Malone to Albany it would take, on a bad day, three and a half hours.  This little bus trip took five and three quarter hours.  But it was the pleasant part of the trip.  The trouble was still ahead.

Part 2 – coming soon.