Riding buses

I tried and tried, but I can think of nothing sexier than riding the bus. I was once enamored by the golden chariots, hailed at the curb and made to whisk us about as we lounge in the hushed, leather interior, but I grew lonesome. I longed for the bleeding humanity of close quarters and the tiny moments of eye contact. The subtle body contact of sitting side-by-side, unified by the pureness of simply living.