Obit-lette: 38-Geary Ocean Beach

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38 Geary Ocean Beach
Photo by Flickr user Jeremy Brooks

100 Muni StoriesIn 2009, several Muni lines got the axe. To further anthropomorphize our city transit system — and to be a bit silly about the cuts — we solicited Muni obituaries from our readers. We learned San Franciscans were more attached to their pet lines than we ever imagined, not just because of proximity or convenience. This part of Sara’s writeup, in its entirety below, says it all for me: “For me and my husband, that turn means we’re going home.”

The 38-Geary Ocean Beach was eliminated over the weekend along with other route segments. Here’s Sara’s obituary for it.

So we took what is probably our last ride on the 38 Geary Ocean Beach line Friday night — even waited a few extra moments in the dark and cold on Geary for it, turning our noses up at an earlier bus so that we could experience that heart-warming turn off at 33rd Avenue one last time. For me and my husband, that turn means we’re going home.

I suspect a lot of Geary riders hardly knew the Ocean Beach branch line existed, or if they did it was just as that annoying occasional bus that would suddenly and inexplicably turn off of Geary, just as they were approaching the end of the line. There was always a confused scramble for the exits just after the turn as riders found themselves suddenly traveling what they obviously thought was the wrong way. And inevitably, one old guy asking plaintively “Hey, does this bus go to the VA Hospital?”

It was my favorite bus line though, because it ran right by my front door on Balboa and carried me to and from all the busy spots on Geary where I needed to be. Also, it effectively doubled the bus service on what will now be a very quiet and poorly served residential stretch of Balboa. That especially matters to me because I work a late shift downtown, and there will now be fewer options and longer waits at midnight on Market street. Standing there under the streetlight with the other late-night stragglers, I always felt like I’d hit the jackpot when I saw the “Ocean Beach” sign on the front of the approaching bus.

Sure there is a Balboa bus, but it’s not terribly frequent. As Muni helpfully points out, I can take the regular Geary bus or the Fulton– only two blocks in either direction from Balboa– but they neglect to mention the fairly daunting hills involved or the size of those blocks. And I guess now they’re offering the rather piss-poor alternative of getting off the Geary at 33rd and waiting for an infrequent 18 bus to show up and take you down Balboa. But change buses to travel 10 blocks, and at midnight no less? No.

I was pleased to see another reader eulogize this line last week, because I figured nobody else cares. I’m well aware that my desire to see it continue is pretty selfish — I was often the only rider left by the time we reached my stop. But nevertheless, I’m going to miss you, 38 Ocean Beach.

Read last week’s eulogy for the 38-Geary Ocean Beach here.

Category: 100 Muni Stories, Aww: Cute on Muni, diaries Tags: ,

BART station musician wars

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Powell Street Station, San Francisco
Photo by Flickr user FNP

My partner and I were walking through Civic Center Station Friday night when we heard the most ungodly combination of noises.

On our right was a gentleman attempting to play a soprano saxophone. Actually, he was playing it quite well — especially considering that on the left was some long-haired dude wildly strumming a guitar, whooping and hollering and generally trying to throw the saxophonist off his game.

The saxophonist was playing his song without missing any notes (I think; it was hard to tell in all the cacophony), being generally very Zen about the whole situation. The guitarist, on the other hand, was just playing random combinations of notes on the guitar and screeching as loud as he could, evidently just to make it impossible for anyone to enjoy his fellow musician’s performance.

The oddest part was, the guitarist had several dollars in his open case. I suppose it’s possible he put them there himself, but it seems just as likely that some folks actually gave him money. Why?

My partner said he was tempted to take money from the one and give it to the other. I wish I’d thought of that when we were walking by. I wonder what would have happened if we’d done it.

Category: BART, Funny: Muni LOLs Tags:

What’s the Worst Cut in Muni’s Changes Tomorrow?

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They want me to pay five dollars for what now?
Photo by Flickr user SF a go go

All week long we’ve been posting obituaries in memory of the lines that will go out of service tomorrow. We’ve also seen some interesting points in our comments section and inbox.

Muni Lover and Akit both expressed that they think the 38-Ocean Beach Branch is by far the worst cut in the changes coming tomorrow. Muni Lover said:

Three huge schools used that leg of that particular 38 line to get to the businesses on that part of Balboa. Just that little part of Balboa is a thriving little enclave…mainly because the lunchtime crowd from these kids spent a whole lotta money along its length. Also almost all the other changes do have alternate choices and usually several other chioces at that. (read more from this thread)

Rider Adam emailed us to ask why the cable cars seem to be “sacred cows.” Adam wrote:

Can someone explain to me why, as we approach the second round of cuts to city-wide Muni services, that the historic, tourist-filled cable cars have been unaffected?!? 

Hear me out here:  I live on Hyde St, and depend on Muni for my daily transportation (buses, like the 1 and the 12, and 28, not cable cars mind you).  Now they are drastically reducing the frequency of the buses I depend on, and yet somehow, the cable car will continue to clatter happily by my house from 6 AM – 1AM–every, single, day.  Believe me, I understand completely that it makes a ton of money during most hours at $5 a head.  And I am fully supportive of that, since it probably subsidizes the rest of Muni.  And I would have no beef if the cable cars were run from 7 or 8 AM to 11PM and were mostly full.  But believe me, for that first hour and those last two hours, I look out my window, and they ride back and forth, EVERY TEN MINUTES, completely, utterly, empty, with two bored operators texting on their phones and drinking coffee.  It’s infuriating. Such a total waste.

My question to you guys: why are the cable cars sacred cows?  Is there some separate operating agreement?  A different union?  What is it?

I asked SFMTA’s public relations officer Kristen Holland about this. She told me that the cable cars are a part of San Francisco’s Charter and have been declared a National Historic Landmark. The current service level, she says, has been codified in the City’s Charter in section 8A.114, which details where the cable cars should run. And cable car operators are in the same union as other Muni operators. So, I’m not sure if this qualified the cable cars as sacred cows per se, but I suppose being a National Historic Landmark counts for something.

What do you think is the worst cut in the service change tomorrow?

Category: News

Obituary: 26-Valencia, ‘The Rich Man’s 14-Mission’

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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.

2009-12-04 08.41.48

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.

Relaxing on the 26
This and top photo by Flickr user Noelster from the photoset Tribute to the 26-Valencia

Category: Aww: Cute on Muni, diaries Tags: ,
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