Riding my magic carpet to Sequim

Dawn slowly turns the darkness into a black-and-white silhouette as I leave my home on the west side of Port Angeles on Friday.

I turn on my small flashlight to pick out the potholes left in my unpaved street by the melting white Christmas as I walk to the corner where streetlights create splashes of color beneath them.

I check my pocket to make sure I'm carrying what I call my magic carpet - a Clallam Transit all-zone monthly pass.

When I spot the approaching bus, I signal the driver with my flashlight, wait for her to stop and climb aboard.

Were I to drive my car on the 40-mile round trip to and from work, my commute would total 10,000 miles a year.

Doing the math and erring on the best-case scenario, I figure my Subaru Impreza could - well, it could - get 30 miles to the gallon, or just more than 333 gallons for the year.

Multiplying that by a wishful $2 a gallon, I'd spend $666.67 on fuel alone.

A year's worth of bus passes will cost $432, so I already stand to save $234. Because my mileage has dropped, I'll save at least $120 on auto insurance.

As for time, I'll spend only 30 minutes more on the road than I would in my car, time I can spend reading, planning my day or just watching the sun come up.

Today, though, I'll take notes.

The bus that picked me up near my home will go to the Oak Street station in downtown P.A., then continue as the Sequim Commuter. I needn't even get out of my seat.

The bus is warm - warm enough that I doff my winter coat at the first opportunity.

My fellow passengers look like folks you'd see at any morning kaffeeklatsch except that most of them are quiet and alone with their thoughts, maybe the last such time they'll have all day.

Despite the holiday lights in the trees, downtown P.A. seems darker for the businesses that have closed, darker still for Gottschalks bankruptcy that perhaps explains the burned-out letters in the store's sign.

Our bus heads east, picking up and dropping passengers along the way, past places I wrote about as a reporter for Peninsula Daily News.

By 7:40 a.m. - the bus left Oak Street 10 minutes ago - we roll out of town and I note things I never noticed when I had to keep my eyes on the road. They include all the businesses still burning their holiday lights, perhaps in some subconscious pagan urge to drive away the dark.

Now we're entering the Morse Creek curve as traffic into town builds. The cars' headlights as they swoop around the bend remind me of "Star Wars" fighter craft peeling off in formation.

The fog this morning obscures all but buildings hard beside U.S. Highway 101. A chill draft comes from the rear door to my right. In response, the heater kicks in on my left.

This day, I reflect, would be a great one for staying home by a cozy fire if it weren't for two circumstances:

• I must go to work.

• I have no fireplace or woodstove.

Now we're edging over as the road narrows into the stretch of two-lane highway known as Blood Strip or Slaughter Alley - another reason I'm happy to leave the driving to Rickie, who has been with Clallam Transit for 21/2 years.

As daylight broadens and the fog lifts a bit, I look out the window onto ponds I've never seen, a creosoted barn, manufactured houses encircling a fallow pasture.

Entering Sequim on River Road and then on Washington Street, I'm surprised anew by the sheer number of retail businesses that line the way - huge, merely big, small and tiny.

Rickie drives into the Sequim Transit Center. Once we've stopped, I introduce myself and ask what she'd like to see in my article.

Only two things, she says:

Passengers waiting in the darkness should signal drivers with flashlights, just as I did.

In daylight, they should wave or make some motion lest they blend with bus stop shelters or utility poles.

"We don't like missing anybody," she says.

I disembark and head south across Cedar Street as Rickie and the bus head back to Highway 101 and Port Angeles.

As I cut through a parking lot and cross Washington Street to the Sequim Gazette office, I'm left with just one question:

Dare I ... ?

Dare I say ...?

Dare I say, "Mission accomplished"?
Jim Casey is the editor of the Sequim Gazette. His column appears whenever he can't resist temptation. He can  be reached at editor@SequimGazette.com.