Obituary: 53-Southern Heights … good bye, old buddy 12.09.09
Photo by Whole Wheat Toast
Yes, the SFMTA’s major service changes have happened. Riders are adjusting, some more successfully than others. But our readers are still sending us Muni obituaries. This remembrance of the 53-Southern Heights by Muni rider Alex is perhaps my favorite of them all:
I spent 52 of my 57 yrs of life ridin’ da old and reliable 53 bus. As I boarded at 16th and Mission St. at 7:40 pm on the night of Dec. 4th, I LITERALLY, took a ride down memory lane. In 1958/59 riding in a White motor coach,then in the ’60′s da Mack buses. The 1970′s rolled in the era of the GMC’s/ Jimmie’s. Community Service…and it did just that.
I defy you to un-awesome that.
Read last week’s eulogy for the 53. And if you’d like to memorialize a vanished bus route (from any time in Muni history), send it to Muni Diaries.
Obit-lette: 38-Geary Ocean Beach 12.08.09
Photo by Flickr user Jeremy Brooks
The 38-Geary Ocean Beach was eliminated over the weekend along with other route segments. Here’s Sara’s obituary for it.
So we took what is probably our last ride on the 38 Geary Ocean Beach line Friday night — even waited a few extra moments in the dark and cold on Geary for it, turning our noses up at an earlier bus so that we could experience that heart-warming turn off at 33rd Avenue one last time. For me and my husband, that turn means we’re going home.
I suspect a lot of Geary riders hardly knew the Ocean Beach branch line existed, or if they did it was just as that annoying occasional bus that would suddenly and inexplicably turn off of Geary, just as they were approaching the end of the line. There was always a confused scramble for the exits just after the turn as riders found themselves suddenly traveling what they obviously thought was the wrong way. And inevitably, one old guy asking plaintively “Hey, does this bus go to the VA Hospital?”
It was my favorite bus line though, because it ran right by my front door on Balboa and carried me to and from all the busy spots on Geary where I needed to be. Also, it effectively doubled the bus service on what will now be a very quiet and poorly served residential stretch of Balboa. That especially matters to me because I work a late shift downtown, and there will now be fewer options and longer waits at midnight on Market street. Standing there under the streetlight with the other late-night stragglers, I always felt like I’d hit the jackpot when I saw the “Ocean Beach” sign on the front of the approaching bus.
Sure there is a Balboa bus, but it’s not terribly frequent. As Muni helpfully points out, I can take the regular Geary bus or the Fulton– only two blocks in either direction from Balboa– but they neglect to mention the fairly daunting hills involved or the size of those blocks. And I guess now they’re offering the rather piss-poor alternative of getting off the Geary at 33rd and waiting for an infrequent 18 bus to show up and take you down Balboa. But change buses to travel 10 blocks, and at midnight no less? No.
I was pleased to see another reader eulogize this line last week, because I figured nobody else cares. I’m well aware that my desire to see it continue is pretty selfish — I was often the only rider left by the time we reached my stop. But nevertheless, I’m going to miss you, 38 Ocean Beach.
Read last week’s eulogy for the 38-Geary Ocean Beach here.
Obituary: 4-Sutter 12.07.09
Photo by Flickr user skew-t
On Saturday morning, we received a couple more obituaries for the lines and line segments that were eliminated that day. We’ll be posting those sporadically, as they come in. We start with a fond remembrance of the 4-Sutter as told by Jamie:
I was really sad Saturday morning to check nextbus for the 6 and see the 4-Sutter off of the list. I had to write something about my favorite route.
The reason I love the 4 so much is that it would come out of nowhere when you needed it most, and at the most random and convenient times.
The day I got my knee relocated (mega ouch), I was limping with my little gold cane back up to Sutter, basically hating life. The ticker said the 2 wasn’t coming for 35 minutes, and it was 1pm so the 4 shouldn’t have been running. But wait!! Out of nowhere, the 4 appears. It was like the Muni gods knew I was in need of a bus.
There was this other time I was on Van Ness at like 10pm at night, in the cold, being sexually harassed by a homeless guy, and the ticker was telling me the 3 wasn’t coming for 40 minutes. I lived at Divisadero and Sutter at the time, so taking the 3 also meant I had to walk those extra four blocks from Fillmore (and on a bad knee that is angered by cold, see above). When I had just started to consider walking, all of a sudden I see a bus coming down the hill. I assumed it was the 3 because it was attached to the wires. But as it got closer, I could see it was the 4!! At 10pm? YES!! It’s like it knew!!
Besides its random/convenient appearances, the other reason I loved the 4 was because I always got a seat, and nothing even remotely bad had ever happened on it. I have many, many war stories from the 22 and the 47, and I can’t even begin on the 38. I honestly have nothing to note about any hardships on the 4.
I assume the reasons I love the 4-Sutter is also the reasons it no longer exists–running off schedule and not being full…but gosh, I am sad to see it gone.
Read the obituary for the 4-Sutter that we ran last week. Or find all of last week’s obituaries here.
It’s never too late to remember an old bus route you used to take. Or to tell any Muni story, for that matter. Share here.
Weekend Photos: As they ride off into the sunset … 12.04.09
Photo by Whole Wheat Toast
Photo by Whole Wheat Toast
Photo by Octoferret
Photo by Octoferret
Photo by Troy HOlden
We couldn’t find any photos of the 89-Laguna Honda. If you have one, send it our way please!
Obit-lette: 2-Clement 12.04.09
Photo by Thomas Hawk
Friends, riders, countrymen, lend me your eyes; I come to bury the 2 Clement’s stops beyond Park Presidio/14th Ave., not to praise them.
Having only been an Outer Richmond resident for 18 months or so, I never really had occasion to ride the 2. The few times I did, I found it slower and less frequent than its parallel neighbors, the 1 California and 38 Geary.
I suppose it was useful that one time I was in Laurel Heights and missed the 1, but not being a tiny Asian grandmother on my way to or from New May Wah, the extra block I’ll now possibly need to walk won’t have me wailing over any caskets or derelict bus shelters.
But won’t someone please think of the children? Well, the Washington kids now have a 38 parked outside. They’ll be fine.
And so I say farewell to the 2 Clement’s westernmost appendage. Gone, and somewhat forgotten.
Obituary: 26-Valencia, ‘The Rich Man’s 14-Mission’ 12.04.09
Continuing in today’s tradition of honoring the soon-to-be-departed 26-Valencia, here are five more poignant tributes we received:
RIP 26-Valencia by friscolex
O, 26. Your valiant tenure was at its peak in my high school days. Shuttling me to my boyfriend’s house so I could sneak in a smooch session before class, zipping me to the 23-Monterey so I wouldn’t have to walk at all on my way to school, always providing an alternative to the 14-Mission when very important Thrifttown trips were to be made; these are but a few of your to-be-sorely-missed accomplishments.
Could that have been more than ten years ago? Could they really be selling you to the glue factory? Could Muni really be so cruel as to choose you for the guillotine a few months after I moved to within 100 feet of your glorious bus stop? Sadly, the answer is yes. And so, oh 26, rest in peace.
The 26 Valencia by Alyssa
When I was in sixth grade at Everett Middle School on 18th and Church, my parents let me ride the bus home after school by myself. You would think I would be elated to be given this new freedom, but alas, I was terrified. Everett is only one block from Mission High School, and when my friends and I got on the J Church heading south, we knew some sort of bullying and smack-talking was about to go down. Us girls got off a little easier than our male counterparts. Those little blond boys might as well had targets tattooed on their foreheads. But I developed a confident strut to try to dissuade any high-school kids from messing with little me.
My fear made it so I only wanted to ride the bus home when I was accompanied by friends. You know, the ol’ safety-in-numbers theory. But my friends all got off the J before me, as they lived in Noe Valley or Eureka Valley or Bernal Heights. I had to ride the train all the way to the Glen Park stop, which was and still is in the middle of the freeway essentially, on a deserted concrete island between the whizzing cars on San Jose Avenue. If I had to get off at that stop alone, I literally sprinted up the stairs to the safety of the overpass, imagining I was just missing the grasps of Mission High thugs or the people who lived under the freeway.
What does this have to do with the 26, you ask? The 26 was my safety net. I could avoid all the aforementioned stress if I got off the J at 30th and Church, with the safety of Supercuts and the produce market nearby. From there I would wait…and wait…and wait…for the 26 to turn off Mission onto 30th and turn onto Chenery and take me safely and soundly home to the Glen Park of yore, with Diamond Super and Sunset Pizza. The moment I would start walking up Chenery instead because it was taking too long, it of course roared by me…damn 26! I don’t remember the last time I set foot on that bus, but it will always bring to mind that sigh of relief, that last leg of the journey before making it home in one piece.
Ode to the 26 by D@n Shick
I don’t know why I’m so sad about the loss of the 26-Valencia. I haven’t ridden it regularly in well over a decade; when I did ride it, it was unreliable, annoying to the many Valencia St. pedestrians, and frequently detoured; it’s a remarkably redundant route; and I’d much rather ride BART to Glen Park these days anyway.
Yet I am sad. I remember riding it home to my several awesome apartments on and near Valencia during the early &and mid-’90s from my summer temp jobs downtown or in Civic Center. It was my special bus that teleported me home and allowed me to avoid Mission Street. I rode it up and down Valencia when I had a Fast Pass and was too lazy, or needed coffee too badly, to walk to Muddy’s.
When I discovered that it went to the old Mint, it was the moment at which I felt like a real resident of San Francisco, and reading Cometbus on that ride home was imbued with a special magic that I still think of when I see new issues.
I’ll never forget how the 26 made me feel like a grown-up. I’ll miss ya, ya stupid bus.
R.I.P. 26 Valencia by Tony
Here is an outbound morning commute shot of the 26 Valencia approaching the 14th and Valencia Stop. You will be missed eventhough, I ended up walking many times, since the wait was sometimes inexcusable.
And lastly, 26-Valencia, I didn’t love you enough by Jeff (me)
Could it be that the 26-Valencia was one rider away from being pardoned? Could that rider have been me?
I’ve lived a half-block from Valencia for well more than six years now, yet I can count the number of times I’ve ridden the 26-Valencia on 1.5 hands. It’s almost always a foggy ride, not due to the weather, but more to how much liquor I’ve imbibed. Or sometimes, it was simply the amount of warm pizza in me, and with the wind-chill factor factored in, and the randomness of a 26-Valencia magically showing up to cart my friends and loved ones on down the avenue to the safety and warmth of our homes …
I could cry.
26-Valencia, I did not do you right in our years near each other. For that, I am sorry. I hope that MTA does not close the book on you forever. You deserve resurrection someday, perhaps as a light-rail route.
A boy can dream, can’t he?
For the meantime, 26-Valencia, I wish you the most peaceful passing one can hope for a bus route. You will be missed, especially on those nights when I have no choice but to hoof it all … okay, all nine blocks of Valencia. If MTA leaves any stops or shelters in your wake, I vow to pay homage to them each time I encounter them.
Rest in peace.
There you have it. That’s the last of our obituaries, for now at least. Some more might trickle in, once the loss is realized starting next week. Meantime, check out California Beat’s obituary for the 26-Valencia, which can be found here. Spots Unknown has great photos of the old 26 streetcar. And here’s Mission Loc@l’s shout-out to the Valencia chariot.
This and top photo by Flickr user Noelster from the photoset Tribute to the 26-Valencia
Obituary: 26-Valencia, the Quiet Muni Cousin 12.04.09
Photo by Flickr user Noelster
We received a deluge of obituaries for the dear 26-Valencia which, along with the 4, 7, 20, 53, and 89 lines, will say goodbye to us after SFMTA’s service changes this Saturday. Rider Noelster sent us a pictorial memorial of the 26, which you’ll see with today’s two-part farewell to the line.
First, a poem from Beth W.:
Bubblegum-scented perfume and fried chicken –
someone’s lunch – are competing to pollute
the stuffy air inside this bus, whose windows
are shut because nobody is tall enough to
reach them. It’s a warm day; people are fanning
themselves and my baby is squirming. At each stop
more passengers pile on: the baby-store clerk
with her blonde pixie haircut, glamorous sunglasses
and terrier; a cluster of teenagers; a man
whose ponytail and wheelchair seem mismatched,
even though this is San Francisco, where “mismatched”
is a kind of civic duty. Each time a frail old woman
or man carrying a cane or too many bags gets on,
passengers give up their seats. Even the driver is polite,
a rarity in this much-maligned transit system. It’s hard
to believe that this route will be axed, a victim of
budget cuts, on the grounds that nobody uses it.
From Angela:
Muni bus line, 26-Valencia passed away quietly in her sleep on Dec. 5, 2009. A somewhat urban school bus, the 26-Valencia serviced your local San Francisco public school students and commuters for many years.
The 26-Valencia started her route on the corner of 5th and Jessie Streets in downtown San Francisco, making frequent stops near or within walking distance from Horace Mann Middle School, Glen Park School, Balboa High School, City College of SF, to her final destination at 19th and Holloway, just steps away from San Francisco State University. Most recently, her route was shortened, due to low-ridership, to a final stop at the Balboa BART Station.
Considered quiet and shy compared to her more colorful and eccentric Muni cousins, the 26-Valencia was at times always on schedule and reliable. It would be an understatement to say that the 26-Valencia will be missed from the streets of San Francisco.
In lieu of flowers, her remaining Muni family requests that SF commuters continue to support public transportation.
Photo by Flickr user Noelster
From Muni Diaries ace reporter Tara:
I don’t have a whole lot to say about the 26, as I haven’t ridden it that much, all told.
(How’s that for a start to an obituary?)
It brought me home (safely) after a party once. It served as a sometimes-alternative to its cousins, the 14-Mission and 49-Van Ness, if it happened to be rolling by.
But as a woman who often walks alone on Valencia Street, sometimes at night, the 26-Valencia was always a welcome sight. Almost like a favorite barista, favorite Muni driver, or your own home, it’s comforting to see a cheery, new, tiny bus, garishly lit, rushing down the street as you walk home alone from work or from the bar.
Unlike Mission Street, no stranger to transit, traffic, and transit-related traffic, quieter Valencia, especially south of 16th Street, calms down quite a bit once the sun goes down. With the exception of neighborhood bars like Amnesia or Elbo Room, Valencia turns into a darkened set of window displays, dim restaurants, doors covered in cages, and Omer (“Bum Jovi”) the asshole musician causing some kind of random, startling hold-up near that Social Security building.
But you could always count on the 26 and its sum total of five passengers heading past, to who knows where. Though the where was never that important for me regarding this particular route, the when definitely was.
Thanks, 26! We on Valencia will miss you.
From JT:
I’m sad to see the 26 go. When I was a student ages ago at SFSU, it was an easy one-bus commute. It’s a clean and quiet alternative to getting downtown. It got me to Glen Park for my guitar lessons. I guess I’ll have to take the J and climb the stairs now.
Stay tuned for more memories about the 26 coming up this afternoon.
Obit-lettes: 18-46th Avenue and 38-Geary Ocean Beach Branch 12.03.09
Photo by Akit
After the earlier posting of “Obit-lettes,” we received this one from Muni rider Akit:
It’s sad to say goodbye to San Francisco’s old friend, the 38-Geary Ocean Beach Branch. The little segment from 33rd Avenue to LaPlaya helps to serve the community businesses on Balboa, and provides frequent service for anyone who needs to connect with the 1-California for service to Chinatown and the Sutter Health hospitals in Laurel Village.
But with a loss comes another hero, the 18-46th Avenue to cover the route of the 38-Geary Ocean Beach branch. The realization is that anyone on Balboa who needs to get to Geary must depend on this bus line that only gives 20 minute frequencies, and a missing bus can make it up to 40 minutes. At least the 38-Geary Ocean Beach branch was a little more frequent.
But the sacrifice the 18-46th Avenue has to make will cost riders their access to great views along the route that serves the Cliff House, Pt. Lobos Avenue, and Geary Blvd. But it’s not just the regular riders, this route was popular with the people with large amounts of groceries from Safeway “at the Beach” and lives on Geary/Pt. Lobos between 48th and 33rd Avenues.
These huge changes could have been simply resolved by removing the Fort Miley route of the 38-Geary and having a shuttle van supplied by VA Hospital or a paratransit van cover the one block segment to Pt. Lobos/Geary for an easy transfer to a 38L or 18 bus.
Thanks Muni, you’ve just added an extra 20 minutes on my 30 minute commute.
See? It’s never too late to memorialize a dying Muni route or portion thereof. Share your memories today.
Obit-lettes: 21-Hayes, 10-Townsend 12.03.09
Photo by Flickr user kodama (home)
SFMTA’s December 5 service changes include the elimination of portions of bus routes, in addition to the total elimination of some routes, and in other cases, increased service. A few riders wanted to share their thoughts on those parts of routes that will go the way of the dodo come this Saturday. First, here’s Noah, sparing no words for how he really feels about lopping off the Fulton portion of the 21-Hayes:
Good riddance.
Before the death of the Fulton portion of the 21-Hayes, people who lived on Fulton between Stanyan and 8th Ave had the benefit of two buses, the 5 and the 21. People who boarded the 21 on Hayes anywhere East of Divis had the benefit of zero buses during rush hour, because the 21 was always too full to stop.
Now, those of us who ride the 21 in a neighborhood where only the 21 goes by actually have a bus we can ride during rush hour.
SF Appeal has a helpful explanation of what exactly will be happening to the 21.
Next up is Muni Diaries favorite Tara, with a tale of woeful days ahead without her 10-Townsend:
Once BART drops me off at Embarcadero each morning at about 8:50, I scramble frantically, depending on what the NextBus prediction says, to Fremont and Market, awaiting my golden chariot: the 10-Townsend. It, usually reliably, takes me from downtown to the north end of town. It’s quiet, filled with polite folks (except for that one old guy I fought with that time), and rolls through one of the most thriving parts of town at 8:55 a.m. on a weekday. That said, it, um, pretty much empties by the time we pass Sansome and Lombard.
Though some lines are meeting their demise come Dec. 5, others, like the 10, are simply getting rerouted at certain points. Though yuppies like me should be able to deal with a minor glitch in his or her morning bus routine, yuppies like me end up having the biggest shitfits over this very thing. Total White Whine, if you will.
The long and short of it is that the 10 is now turning west on Jackson, instead of taking me all the way north, to my building at North Point and Stockton. I will miss you, that-part-of-the-10. Instead of jamming to my iPod or reading some to-be-a-movie-soon novel from Oprah’s list of recommendations, I usually preferred to stare out the window and watch the hubbub unfold. These are people going to work, bustling around in their businesswear and messenger bags. It actually makes me happy to be going to work, too, like we’re all in some sort of metropolitan club from 9-6 on weekdays. The best part was getting to see it all from my chariot, above the fray. I can still do some of that…but then I’ll have waited 10 minutes for a 10 minute bus ride, only to require another 15 minutes of walking. I might just have to bid adieu to the 10 altogether and walk the whole way, as it might not be worth the hassle when all is said and done.
Ultimately, if it’ll save Muni some cash, I can deal with it. The only thing it does is force me to leave the house about 15 minutes earlier in the morning, allowing me time to walk from downtown to Way Up There. Or, it forces me to hop on a 9x or a 9BX (soon to be rechristened the 8X, etc.), in the event I feel like a nice pushy morning ride or an elbow to the ribs is needed to jolt me awake for the day ahead. Either way, I will deal with it. But it doesn’t stop me from complaining about it here.
We’ll give you a break, Muni, if it’ll save you the cash. But try to cut us some slack next week while we all begrudgingly try to turn the speeding freight train around on our befuddled morning selves.
Check back tomorrow for the last of our Muni obituaries. It will be an all-day tribute to the almost-dearly departed 26-Valencia.
Obituary: 20-Columbus, an Exclusive Club (2007-2009) 12.03.09
Photo by Jeremy Brooks
Our week continues with obituaries written by you, dear riders, in memory of the Muni lines that are being eliminated this Saturday. Dates for the death of these lines changed several times, giving many of you the chance to really think up a good obituary for your favorite line. Rider Whole Wheat Toast penned this obituary for the 20-Columbus with a note to the line’s history.
The 20-Columbus, also known by its name as the 20-line, died in
OctoberNovember December.The 20-Columbus was born on July 2, 2007, as a result of the disastrous discontinuation of the 15-Third, which rendered indirect connections from Columbus Avenue to the Financial District. Not only did the route serve residents of North Beach, it also served commuters from the Marina, and students at the nearby Galileo High School. While often empty at times, it was a pretty fast way to get from Galileo to the Embarcadero Center whenever a student wanted to take his friends out for shopping after school, or as an alternative to the stuffy 30-Stockton bus.
On
October 15November TK, 2009 December 4, 2009, the 20-Columbus was discontinued with no regard to the residents and people who use the route every day, and was replaced by a rush hour, longer-vehicle service known as the 41-Union, which also had its share of cuts, being reduced from a Presidio-Downtown route to a Pacific Heights-Downtown route.May the 20-Columbus rest in peace.
from Whole Wheat Toast
Here at Muni Diaries, we love stories about Muni experiences that make your day. Rider Andrew sent this recap of how the drivers of the 20-Columbus can brighten a morning:
On no Muni line were the drivers as consistently friendly as 20-Columbus. Smiles, “good morning!”s, and perfect curb-loading stops, year-round. When I once asked why, the driver responded, “Well, all the passengers are nicer on the 20, too.”
And how true that was! Travel options abound from my stop — Hyde and North Beach — to the business district, and the daft among us would snatch whichever was quickest, usually (and, now, forevermore) the 10-Townsend and 30-Stockton.
But we 20-Columbus riders were a self-selected bunch, those with the foresight and experience to avoid the 10-Yuppie and the 30-Pink Bag. Those with the spare four morning minutes to walk from the Transamerica Building — “the outskirts” — to our soulless cubes. Those with some long-buried childhood love of the smile from the driver, the nod from fellow passengers, and the ample legroom.
Oh, the legroom. You see, the 20-Columbus was articulated, and empty, at an unsurpassed rate, which tends to eliminate nearly every major rider complaint. There were no jars of urine, no screaming children. No unbathed patrons. No chatty Cathys, no Muni DJs. No Two-Seat-Takin’, Big-Balls-Havin’ guys, although if there were, no biggie!
So, 20-Columbus, your drivers and passengers will miss you, and we thank you. For your solitary mornings, for your easygoing clientele, and, above all, for showing us that, yes, human decency extends past the curb.
from Andrew
If you’re curious about the history of this short-lived line, check out California Beat’s obituary for the 20-Columbus.
