Now, I very rarely catch public transport but I’m fairly sure that one of the key points in public transport is letting the passengers off. Otherwise it would be public kidnapping, and that’s not very nice.
The train I was on this morning pulled in to Parliament Station. The lady with her hand on the handle gives it a tug. Little ‘oh, that was too early, silly me’ smile as the door stays shut. A few seconds late and the smile turns in to a ‘I’m not that silly, what’s happening?’ frown. Ten seconds later we are all still gazing at the sticker on the window telling us the carriage is equipped with power doors for our convenience. Bully for it, doesn’t help us when they don’t open. A few seconds later and the train glides majestically out of Parliament; we’re all still on board looking at the bemused faces of those left stranded on the platform. Sigh, a five minute wait at Flinders St and another trip around the loop before I was on my way again.
As for why I was on the train? My car, the trusty old Magna is trusty no more. The transmission is shot – it can’t find any gear above second. I tried to get to work this morning but only succeeded in annoying many people as I bunny hopped up the Westgate freeway. Travelling at 60k’s in a 100k zone is a great way to make people grumpy. So, if anyone has a spare $1300 lying around just drop me a line, I’ll come and collect it.