In The Guardian, Joanna Pocock writes about taking a cross-country trip by Greyhound bus.

Our bus showed up, but we were further delayed while passengers on it waited for their luggage. Apparently, its faulty hold had opened and bags had scattered along the highway – or so the story went. You never quite know on a Greyhound. The rides can take on a mythical dimension.

I used to take the Greyhound a lot when I was young in the 90s and early ’00s, with no car and more time than money. There was some kind of interesting adventure along the way (granted, as a 6′ white guy, so my perspective is skewed). At worst, it was safe, inexpensive, fairly reliable and easy to navigate.

I took the Greyhound on a lark a few years back, and it didn’t seem to be any of those things.

The last few years we’ve been doing a lot of road trips in the car, and so much of the places between places, that used to have great food or used bookstores, are just wide spots in the road now. I imagine it relates to cheaper, better travel options (for those who can afford them) and rising inequality.