I’m working furiously (well, maybe I’m working at an on-again-off-again pace) on Season Three of the podcast, which I have slated to drop in mid-November. After traversing 17ish states in the past ten weeks and talking with scores of people (bus owners and admirers and just plain friendly folk), I have to say that I am floored—absolutely floored—by the kindness of strangers. It’s an insight I needed to see after a half decade of absolute human abyss where locker room talk was normalized and meanness was considered strength. We’ve had complete strangers come friends in the space of a few days. We’ve heard stories and shared stories with people we would have otherwise never met. It’s been a honor to interact with this many people.
At some point, I hope to write a book on this trip—not necessarily a travelogue (those focus too much on the author). No, I’d rather write about the people we’ve had chance meetings with, the ones where we connected on a rainy evening one hundred miles north of Gatineau or at their home over a hearty Italian dinner in Wasaga Beach, the strings of text messages we get after lighting someone’s driveway for a night in Albion, the cadre of travelers stopping into the pub on a sunny day in Lubec, the advice of bus gurus in Vermont, in Massachusetts, in Rhode Island and Connecticut and Minnesota. I’d rather retell their stories over and over again the way I’ve worn grooves into my favorite LPs. I’d love to hear Nellie laugh over and over; I could use all the advice I can glean from Ken; what would I give for another sit down with Eric and soak up his wisdom?
What I have now is hours of audio to sort through, memories—some my own, but mostly those from others—to relive and share. Stay tuned.