I had made plans with a friend I haven’t interacted with in a while to get dinner one fine autumn day. We met at the bus stop, and when the 61B bus came, I loaded by bike on the front rack, and got inside with my friend. We were chatting, catching up, etc, thinking of what restaurant we’ll go to. We got off at our stop, and walked around looking for good food. Eventually, the realization had hit me – I forgot my bike on the bus. I immediately lost my appetite.
My immediate thoughts were – I cannot live without my bike. I use my bike to get to school daily, and my established sense of community in Pittsburgh comes from events that I use my bike to get to. My bike has become a routine so deeply ingrained in my brain, and I am not the type of person who can change a routine on a whim. This really freaked me out.
Me and my friend sat on some concrete steps near the bus stop where the bus would hypothetically return to after reaching its final destination and turning around. We had watched every 61B passing by, checking whether it has a bike on its front rack. Long after my friend had to go, I was still sitting there anxiously checking PRT’s bus tracker and writing down possible bus ids and when the next bus might be.
Since my house was not far from this bus stop, I would just walk home and play my banjo on my porch in between busses. Eventually it was past 2 am, or some other ungodly hour, I don’t remember, and I had decided that a better use of my time was trying to get some sleep and wake up at 6 am and call PRT and ask about my bike.
When I called PRT in the morning, they had it, and they told me which bus depot had it. It was quite a bit away, so I texted a friend with a car hoping they were awake this early, and they were! She drove over at 8 am-ish, and we drove to the bus depot to pick it up. The employees there basically asked me “how the do you forget your bike on the bus”. It is very easy, actually.
My immediate thoughts were – I cannot live without my bike. I use my bike to get to school daily, and my established sense of community in Pittsburgh comes from events that I use my bike to get to. My bike has become a routine so deeply ingrained in my brain, and I am not the type of person who can change a routine on a whim. This really freaked me out.
Me and my friend sat on some concrete steps near the bus stop where the bus would hypothetically return to after reaching its final destination and turning around. We had watched every 61B passing by, checking whether it has a bike on its front rack. Long after my friend had to go, I was still sitting there anxiously checking PRT’s bus tracker and writing down possible bus ids and when the next bus might be.
Since my house was not far from this bus stop, I would just walk home and play my banjo on my porch in between busses. Eventually it was past 2 am, or some other ungodly hour, I don’t remember, and I had decided that a better use of my time was trying to get some sleep and wake up at 6 am and call PRT and ask about my bike.
When I called PRT in the morning, they had it, and they told me which bus depot had it. It was quite a bit away, so I texted a friend with a car hoping they were awake this early, and they were! She drove over at 8 am-ish, and we drove to the bus depot to pick it up. The employees there basically asked me “how the do you forget your bike on the bus”. It is very easy, actually.