Call it irony, call it painful justice, but watch out for what you hate.
The MBTA guys usually get clobbered in the press—for delays, mechanical failures, and budgets that balloon like overfed whales. To suggest that any of them might be heroes sounds like a setup line in a Boston comedy club.
Fifty years ago, “kneeling buses” were ridiculed as an extravagant expense to benefit a minuscule percentage of riders. I admit it—I was in that chorus of mockers, rolling my eyes at taxpayer waste.
Fast forward to yesterday. My wife and I—now proud members of the “no driver’s license” club of octogenarians—took the 73-bus home from the doctor’s office. My wife, living with Parkinson’s, finds boarding a kneeling bus far easier than tumbling into an
Uber.
At the Waverly stop, something unexpected happened. The bus driver, instead of treating us like invisible luggage, noticed her mobility challenge. He inched the bus forward, lowering that first step to sit flush against the curbstone. It was like watching a magician line up the universe just for us. One gentle hydraulic sigh—and suddenly the whole world felt accessible.
Here’s the kicker: this driver had already seen hundreds of riders that day. He had zero obligation to notice two creaky elders fumbling with dignity. Yet he did. And in that small, thoughtful moment, he made us feel like honored guests rather than late-life inconveniences.
So today, I’m not only grateful to that driver, but also to the engineers, manufacturers, and yes—even those budget warriors—who fought for kneeling buses against guys like my younger, shortsighted self. Turns out, the real joke was on me.
Sometimes, progress arrives one kneeling bus at a time. And when it does, you don’t just step aboard—you bow in gratitude.