My father drove a city bus for a living. I loved riding in the seat right behind him as we would go around and around the same blocks in our town of 40,000 in Southern Indiana. It was an adventure for a 5 year old little girl as I listened to the people who got on and off and my father talking and laughing, exchanging the few formula phrases that contained acknowledgement, comraderie, and support, the traffic of social exchange.
I began driving after retiring from teaching a few months ago. If anyone doubts that America can accommodate diversity, ride along with me for just one day.
My first fare was an African-American 30