Busing: Day Three

Raining again. I got the bus stop right on time only to discover I had no quarters, and the only other bills I had were a ten and a twenty. So, I run back home, fly in the house, and proceed to raid my wife's piggy bank, into which she only puts dimes and quarters (mostly quarters by, say, a five to one ratio).

I shake it in the dark of my bedroom only to get a quarter and four dimes. I shake again and feel something larger, so I grab it and go. But by the time I'm passed the laundry room some subconscious (and far more astute) part of my brain says: "Something ain't right" so I look at the two coins to find that the second one is one of those Sacajawea dollars. There might be three of those things in the whole half-gallon growler that passes for my wife's piggy bank and I shake one out.

So I got back and get the right change, yelling at the dogs to get out of my way so I can run back to the bus stop. I make it, luckily, with about a minute to spare.

The ride is uneventful, not even the chatty Cathy who normally talks up the driver the whole way is speaking. Probably the rain. Some guy gets on and pays with what sounds like 150 pennies. An SUV seems to have forgotten basic physics and passes us on the left right where Campbell becomes a single-lane street due to the cop cars parked in the right hand lane in front of the police station.

At least I have a basic idea of the time now, since I looked at my watch approximately every ten seconds while running to and from the house for exact change.