The Folk In The City of Cars
an excerpt from T. Semakula's upcoming book..The Food Stamp Bandit
As usual, I am waiting
for the 23. It’s a quarter till eleven at night and my behind is gripping the
small plastic seat that is shoved inside a plexi glass bus stop shelter. The stop
is housed on Fourth and Broadway, which sits across from Brown Bros. Cadillac.
The famous lot is known for its’ shiny color pallet of blue, brown, red, and
white caddies. I am amazed that the lot hasn’t fallen prey to the recession
that has placed a choke hold on the once vibrant, River City. From the stop, I can see folk popping out of their cars
and strolling up Fourth Street, headed toward one of the many restaurants that
decorate the downtown. The pedestrians that flank the well-known Fourth Street Live! give the appearance
that Louisville hasn’t succumbed to the recent economic back slap that has left
a trail of bankruptcies, foreclosures, and sold out homeless shelters.
The
Folk in the City of Cars
The 23 is one of those
routes that many working folk depend on to get them to their usual gigs. I
watch these folk as they board the bus donning grease stained McDonald
uniforms, steel toe boots, or flowered covered nursing assistant scrubs. The
route also houses unruly youth who try to impress their friends with four
letter words and fancy touch screen cell phones, seniors with monthly bus
passes that hang on a cloth chain around their necks, and teen mamas who board
the bus with fat strollers, painted on skinny jeans, and short tempers.
As I view the mobile
landscape, I attempt to fit myself into this urban community that is held
together with paper transfers and updated bus schedules. Let’s face it;
Louisville is a city of cars. Even the poor feel that riding the bus is beneath
them and they do their best to scrap up change to purchase a ride. I have seen folk driving cars with
no doors, no windows, no gas, no bumpers, no plates, outrageous dents, and
dragging mufflers. To them, a car represents status and mobility.
I long to find a
community of writers, thinkers, dreamers, and entrepreneurs, in Louisville, who
don’t mind riding the bus. In cities such as Los Angeles and New York, this is
the norm. As a budding entrepreneur, the expense of a car is not a priority, as
I set my sights on a house, and an office space. I choose to invest in things
that would give me a return on my hard earned change. This train of thought has
made me an alien to the Louisvillians who cherish their rides. Because I ride
the bus, I feel more connected to the city and the people. My view is expanded
as I take in the sights of Louisville, which I feel would benefit from more
enlightened and progressive straphangers.
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