Metropolitan Transit Commission (MTC) is Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota's mass transit bus system.  It grew out of the Twin City Rapid Transit company, which began its first horsecar line on September 2, 1875, and grew from there to electric trolleys going into the far suburbs, to buses and now even light rail!  I started with my transit bus driving career in 1976. Through my 12 year career, I was privileged to drive 20ft. 40ft. and 62ft. articulated buses.  It was an interesting and sometimes very stressful time...but any occupation seems to have less than desirable parts to it that one just muscles through.  When I was hired, I was the last driver hired for six months. I like to think that the management FINALLY found the perfect employee, but that's probably not the case.  That meant six months at the bottom of the list of choosing what line (route) that you wanted.  For me, there was no choice...I got what was left over that needed to be filled. Everybody else out of the four garages three garages in Minneapolis and one in St. Paul, had chosen when it came to my turn. WONDERFUL!  However, when you get handed a lemon, you make lemonade. So I had split shifts, which was more standard than not, being the heavy passenger traffic was going to and coming home from work.  I had split days off and got used to Tuesday, Thursdays off.

When starting an occupation like driving (this was before the Professional Drivers License came into effect), there was testing involved and a maturity looked for. That would come into play many times during our time on the street, because at that time, there were no radio communication at all with any kind of help.  If we broke down, we had to find a telephone.  I remember once breaking down and had to get to a phone.  I saw a car dealership so hoofed it over to it and asked to use the phone.  They directed me to a nice comfy anti-room with a nice wing back chair and a highly polished table with a phone on it.  I called the garage for a mechanic and went to the showroom and thanked the salesman that guided me to the phone.  I was leaning against one of the showroom vehicles and asked him what kind of cars these were.  He said "Rolls Royce." I came off that car like it was burning me!  Beautiful automobile.

There were many incidences of wonderful times to remember like the morning express run out to the far suburbs, pick up the commuters and hit the freeway (35W) and buzz into the downtown section.  We had riders come on with cookies, birthday goodies for another rider, and lots of "family" style camaraderie that was a pleasure to be a part of.  One morning after a late night at the Army Reserve Center where I was Acting First Sergeant for 88th ARCOM HQCO preparing for our weekend meeting, I picked everyone up and hauled into downtown.  Unfortunately, I blew by my assigned freeway exit and no one said anything! A asked why they didn't yell at me, and they indicated they were excited to do something different for a change! ha ha ha   I got off the next exit and wound my way back to the route without further problems, but it took a bit of "creative routing", and nobody was any the wiser.  When I left that route the riders showered me with so many best wishes cards and a number of them made mention of our good times, and creative route choices.

Through my time at MTC I worked early morning routes (later on) split shifts, and late night runs.  I always loved to work New Years Day because of two things.  I have never been a party person and never was into the New Years Eve party thing, so I volunteered starting my New Year working at 4:30 and at time and a half!  The only ones out at that part of the day are hospital workers, etc. that have to start early. By the time people really start getting out and about,  I'm heading home.  Piece of cake.

My worst experience was my last night on the Selby/Dale - Lake Street line.  It was a split shift and the second part started at 9:30 in Minneapolis and headed to Downtown St. Paul through the Selby Dale area of St. Paul. It was a hard core area that had a civilian escort following the bus through, and normally had one or two plain clothes police officers riding.  I picked up my two on Lake Street and Bloomington Ave. and at Cedar Ave. in Minneapolis.  An uneventful trip to DT St. Paul when one officer got off at the end of the line and the second one got off on the first stop heading back to Minneapolis.  After he got off, six or seven young men got on and went to the back of the bus and started lighting up their cigarettes. I called back to them saying: "No smoking on the bus please."  I guess they didn't like the word "please" because they said some pretty unpleasant comments about my directions...but they seemed to put out their smokes.  As we moved toward Minneapolis and approached Selby and Dale neighborhood I noticed a lady of the night peeking around the corner of a building across the street, seeing a police car and ducking back into the darkness.  There was an elderly black man with a cane at the bus stop waiting to catch my bus.  The bell was rung signaling someone needing to get off, and I glided into the stop, unlatched the back door (locking the rear wheels) and opened the front door.  Looking into my mirror I noticed the back seat boys strutting toward the front, bypassing the rear door.  As I sat there waiting for them to "de-bus" I felt their passing me (I was looking forward at the time, with my arms on the flat steering wheel). I looked to their progress to my right and the first one was down in the stairwell and turned and threw his cup of ice (not seen before) at my face.  That is when the beating began.  There was no place for me to go or to do other than try to cover my head with my arms. I did hear some yelling a the waiting man with the cane to stop hitting them with it!  The guard escort finally got out of his car and came around the side of the bus, the attackers ran into the darkness like the cowardly rodents they were.  The guard, being like 6ft 12in. and 300 pounds standing there with a gun on his hip, looked like a fairly safe refuge for me to stand next to. He said a supervisor had been notified and I was to wait to him. When the next bus going to Minneapolis came through, transfer the passengers.  They didn't like waiting, but orders are orders.
At the directions from the Supervisor, I drove that 12 ton bus down city streets to the garage and another supervisor drove me to General Hospital to get checked out.  The next day, after getting my glassed refitted to my new, swollen face, I realized I couldn't turn my head without turning my shoulders too. That night I had a charter bus to drive and was looking forward to it as 1. I never had a charter bus assignment before, and 2. It was a University of MN sorority bar hopping run!   Pat made me call into work and went to the doctor the next day. I was off for a few weeks until my face got back to its normal shape and my neck and head could move normally again.

In South Minneapolis, we have a community of Sioux Native Americans. What wonderful traditions they have, and I appreciate their heritage.  One day two men got on my bus as I was heading south from downtown.  The first one got on, dropped his fare into the collection box and moved away.  The second one behind him came up, dropped his fare in and stood still.  I casually turned my head and looked at him . . . just standing there . . . looking at me.  Making sure I had eye contact, I just looked at him wondering what to do.  Finally he said: "Me Indian . . . You White Man." I wanted to laugh, but the look in his eyes told me that would not be a good idea. He didn't say anything else...just that.  Finally his friend told him to leave me alone and come and sit.  After a couple tries of persuasion he finally went to sit with his friend.  Wheeeww  dodged that bullet!  There are a ton of stories that anyone who drives professionally can tell you that has happened to them.  This is just a few during my 12 years driving. If you see me in person, we can sit with a cup of coffee and talk for hours of the stories I remember when serving the public taking them to and from work, play, or where ever they were going, down the streets of Minneapolis and St. Paul.

Point of today's story: It is life events that shape our character.  Each one of us has stories to tell about our growing up, going to school, different jobs held, happinesses, sadnesses, joys and sorrows.  It is how we deal with each one, that moulds us into the person we eventually become.  Some folks have a rough start, others, perhaps have mishaps due to bad judgements along the way, some learn from those and others just go merrily on their way ignoring common sense and living a less than joyful life.
Others overcome adversity and have a very fruitful life of helping others. I like to think it is a life of CHOICES.  "What am I going to do today to make my life and those around me better by how I behave and what I say?"  The choice for you is YOURS alone.  I will be praying that those choices you make are the ones that make you and your family prosperous and joy filled.

Blessings,
Gary