IN PRAISE OF CY-RIDE - Cy-Ride does a good job of serving Ames citizens. True, some sort of public transportation is needed for the evening and Sunday hours when Cy-Ride does not run, but Cy-Ride nonetheless deserves praise for the fine job it is presently doing.

Cy-Ride is doing a fine job. Personally I have ridden Cy-Ride back and forth to work for the last year and a half. These are the qualities I have noticed. The drivers are friendly. They do not mind carrying on a conversation. The drivers show some concern for the riders. More than once as I have walked along, the bus had stopped simply to see is I wanted a ride. This is because after a time that particular driver came to recognize me even from behind by my clothes, walk, and believe it or not, my shoes. They respect elderly people, trying to drop them off as close to the door as possible.

When Cy-Ride first came out there were some major problems, but I have not experienced any of these problems over the last year and a half. Perhaps those who “knock” the bus service need to forgive and forget about that bad beginning. Forgiving does make life a little more pleasant and forgiveness is something we all need ourselves.

Doug Van Hoff
2713 Lincoln Way, Apt. 4

LAUGHTER, ROMANCE, TEARS, SUSPENSE ON CY-RIDE TRIP - There used to be a radio program called “Grand Central Station”- a half-hour “human drama” which opened each week with the announcer saying something like, “Through these portals pass a million private lives.” And the show would then offer “real life” stories of people who had met either inside the station or on a departing train.

When I take a Cy-Ride bus through Ames I think of that program. Riding in one of those squat, yellow buses provides glimpses into tens of, if not millions of, private lives.

Perhaps it is shared intimacy of being confined in a moving vehicle over which the passengers have no control and no responsibility- the same intimacy induced by a train ride but heightened here by the smallness of the bus and the briefness of the time.

Perhaps it is the sense of adventure, never knowing for sure what route you are following, as the Cy-Ride bus meanders up and down side-streets and by-ways. Just when you think you know where you are going, it invariably detours to pick up or drop off another passenger with a turn in an unexpected direction.

Perhaps the drivers set the tone, winding their ways in and out of conversations as deftly as through traffic. Unlike the silent chauffeurs of big city buses who sit isolated from their charges by barriers with signs warning “Do Not Speak To The Driver,” Cy-Ride jockeys seem to take a personal interest in each passenger. Like the driver who greeted me on my third day of commuting by saying, “You’re the lady in the gray house. I see you work at the paper now.” And he drove me all the way up the long driveway to my door.

Perhaps it is being part of an exclusive minority of bus commuters in a world of personal cars. (Are we relics of the past or the avant garde of the future?)

Perhaps it is knowing where fellow passengers start out from and where they are headed that makes a busload of riders feel like friends from the outset.

Whatever it is, Cy-Ride passengers share a lot more than transpiration. Take the last few days as an instance.

One afternoon I found myself seated in back of a long-haired, corduroy-jacketed young man with a black plastic overnight bag at his side. He looked like just another college student- except for the peculiar, green box-like contraption he had perched on the adjacent seat. Turned out he played electric guitar in a jazz quartet that was booked into the Maintenance Shop for the weekend.

As he and I and the driver compared notes on where to eat in Ames, we stopped at the bus depot to pick up a fresh-faced, somewhat apprehensive young woman. She’d just come in from Mason City, and did we know anything about the high school ballgame to be played that night? The driver told her he thought the game had been canceled because of rain. Still smiling, but with anxiety sounding in her voice, she turned to another young rider, explaining that she was to meet a friend at a place called the Union and did she know where that was? She was assured that the driver knew the way.

There was no one waiting for her at the entranceway, but our driver gave specific instructions as to the most logical place to wait. And then, as she stepped off the bus followed by the guitar player, he called out with a sly grin, “Hey, I hear there’s a great jazz group playing tonight, and this young man can show you exactly where they’ll be.”

On another ride I noticed a heavy-set, white-haired woman who walked slowly, leaning heavily on her cane. We both got off at the North Grand Mall. She was there waiting for the bus when I was ready for the trip home.

The driver sat patiently during the long moments it took for her painful ascent up the tall steps into the bus and while she fumbled in her pocketbook for the pasteboard bus token. As I sat reflecting on the determination it took for her to go shopping alone, we pulled up in front of the Sheldon Munn hotel.

“It’s good to get home again,” she breathed as she grasped the handle of the door with one hand, her cane with the other, and eased herself down to the sidewalk. My eyes and the driver’s locked for a moment of shared compassion.

There was poignancy in the tale confided to me by a sprightly woman of intermediate age. It carried the message of a thwarted thrust toward independence.

For the first time in her life she had dared, on the weekend just past, to drive herself to visit relatives in Minnesota. She had gotten there all right, and had almost made it home, but 20 miles out of Ames the trip had ended ignominiously. The motor stalled and she was forced to phone her husband to bring her the last miles home.

From her I got tips on where to buy certain brands of clothes, the efficiency of the Iowa State Patrol (excellent) and the name of a good mechanic.

These are just a sample of the kind of short-short stories encountered on a typical Cy-Ride bus, each on spiced with its own bit of romance or suspense, laughter and sometimes tears - in true “Grand Central Station” fashion. Where else can you learn so much about people and get taken where you want to go to boot?

CyRide Bus Barn at 635 Lincoln Way, first used in 1981

The Checker, left, had been purchased in 1974 for $5,885.  This was before Cy-Ride was run by the City of Ames.  The Dodge seen beyond the Checker was purchased in 1976 for $9,167.

In January of 1984, operations were moved to a new facility at 1700 University Boulevard.  During the next 25 years, the system was built from 3 to 10 routes, carrying more than 4 million passengers.