Riding the Bata Bus to Traverse City

A couple years ago, when the Bay Area Transportation Authority (BATA) opened its downtown Traverse City terminal and expanded its routes, my Up North life took a big leap for the better. I’d always figured I’d pretty well hacked out a good life here in the Northwoods—a house with a view of Sleeping Bear Bay (okay, from the driveway) and a job doing what I love in downtown Traverse City. But that winter commute really started wearing on me. So when I heard that BATA was planning a direct line from Leelanau County to the new terminal in Traverse City—three blocks from my office—I took notice. Think of it: hop on a bus in front of Art's Tavern in Glen Arbor and it whisks you to Front Street, no turning down driveways and dirt roads to make a 45 minute drive into a two-hour trek as BATA's regular buses do. George Jetson's aerocar Up North-style.

The future, my friends, is here. Nowadays, I walk out of my house at 6:40 a.m. and stand in Art's cozy neon glow—especially bright right now because Art's owner Tim Barr hasn't yet taken down the skyscraper-sized lit letters that spell out Merry Christmas on top of the building. Two minutes later, the BATA pulls up in front of me, and I say goodbye to Glen Arbor for the day. When I get to Traverse City there’s no car to park. Just a brisk walk down Front Street.

I'm not the only person who lives between Empire (end of the line) and Traverse City to take advantage of this phenom. Shall we say it's an eclectic group? I'll change names here, but there's Joe who rides because he doesn't have a driver's license (the BATA terminal's proximity to North Peak brewery makes a nice top off to his day); Sarah who Joe described once as having one of those cute little Rachel Maddow haircuts; Pony-tailed Rob works for a regional environmental nonprofit; Al is a tax assessor and probably wishes most of the time that we'd all shut up; Bob Sutherland (his real name) is king of Cherry Republic; Tom and Jessica—he's a brewer, she's a baker. And that's just a sampler of my BATA buddies.

Of course, there's the driver, too. Most of them have been personable and businesslike, but by far and away we like Ray Bays the best (his real name, and since he's applied for a management position at BATA I'm taking this opportunity to say I hope he gets it). Ray is an Alaskan transplant, moved here to take care of his elderly in-laws. He's one of those guys you wish was your neighbor or your uncle. When he found out that one of the regulars, Lucille (pseudonym again) wasn't going to be with family for Thanksgiving, he invited her to his house for dinner. Ray is also giving my husband his home brew recipe. Just a good guy.

Okay, I'll feel bad if I don't put a word in for Rocky and Bill. Rocky goes a block out of his way to drop me on Union and Front on really snowy, wet mornings. Bill makes sure not to drop me at the top of my street on the ride home if there's anyone on the bus he thinks I might not want to know where I live.

Since we're all—passengers and driver—tucked into this dark pod together for over an hour a day, and since most of us are Upper Midwesterners who have yet to cultivate the art of pretending that we’re alone in public, we've all kind of become friends. Maybe someday someone will bring cards and start a euchre game. Sorry Ray, you can’t play. Both hands on the wheel.