Raising a sweat over commuting furnace
It’s been hot in the big city. Especially on Tuesday night. My regular bus is the No. 28 to Lyttelton but on Tuesday I took the O line bus to the Christchurch suburb of Halswell.
As I said it was hot. Even the glare of the sun in our workplace’s baking car park was painful and dust rose in the heated air. The bus depot, when I got there, was as cool and clean as a cathedral.
Then I got on the bus to Halswell. I went to the back to find a vacant seat but when I sat down I found my knees were wedged against the seat in front. I have long legs but buses should be able to deal with this.
I moved to the back seat, which I generally avoid because it seems to have a permanent reserved sign on it: ‘‘Teenagers, school kids and hoodie wearers only.’’
Anyway it was still a bit cramped and, gee, the heat. I looked for a window only to find the bus had no opening windows. It had various ducts and machinery suggesting air conditioning but of course, on this scorching day, it was not working.
Thinking ahead, I realised I would be on the sunny side of the bus when we hit the road. The sun would stream in from the west so you wanted to be in the shade on the left side of the bus. I moved over to the other side of the back seat. Now I was better prepared for the road but the heat was still unbearable. A woman got on and sat in the place I’d just vacated. She was going to cook.
The bus crawled along into the peak hour traffic. Our only hope for a bit of cooler air as the bus gathered speed was fast disappearing. We picked up more passengers. A group of middleaged women got on and sat in the seats in front of me, talking about their Christmas day plans. One would be catering for 26 people. The thought of 26 people and the hot frazzle of a Christmas kitchen made the bus seem even more of a furnace.
We ended up in a long queue heading towards Moorhouse Ave. The sun was beating down on the right side of the bus. I looked over to the woman who had taken my previous seat. She looked uncomfortable. The man in front of me had a thick neck that was shining with sweat. You began to see why hot countries are generally poorer and more troubled.
The crockpot of a bus was positioned three cars from the intersection when the lights went green. We felt hopeful. The driver was turning right so he had to give way to traffic. He was in the full glare of the sun and the light went orange and then red before he could turn. He threw up his hand as if swatting away a fly. In the back we were dying.
The bus waited again for the lights to change. The driver opened the back door to let in some air but the air outside was just as warm as the superheated mixture inside. We needed movement. When we finally got under way, the traffic was heavy. At least the bus was facing into the sun giving the passengers some relief. The driver was taking it full on.
Such is life as a commuter and several points arise. If the weather is indeed getting warmer and more extreme we need to start thinking about design solutions on things like buses.
Also, while public transport will never be quite as comfortable as a modern air conditioned car, it should be pretty close. Every city in New Zealand needs to get people out of cars and on to public transport but this won’t happen until the experience is a good one.
The most frequent complaint I hear about bus transport from people like me is the horror of sharing a space with a different class of humanity, but generally bus passengers are well behaved and polite. When they are obnoxious or inconsiderate – loud music, smelly, swearing, threatening – drivers tend to turn a blind eye and this needs to stop.
Public transport in New Zealand needs to stop being the poor relation of public services. High petrol prices should be applauded as they should push people into using other modes of transport instead of fouling the air and clogging up roads.
But most motorists will gladly put up with the pain at the pump to avoid experiences like the one I had on Tuesday.