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

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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.

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