Columnist Susan Snyder: Commute strategy not a gas

Friday, Sept. 20, 2002 | 4:36 a.m.

The weeklong car-free commute crashed at 7:12 a.m. Tuesday.

In the master bedroom.

The Other rolled up his khakis and shoved them into a bicycle bag.

"You're riding your bike today?" I asked.

OK, so I shouted. He apparently was unaware that he -- or more specifically, his car -- figured prominently in my car-free commuting plans.

Last Sunday I promised to get around the Las Vegas Valley for a week without my car. I pedaled a bike to work Monday. Easy. I do it all the time. I have no one to drop off at school or day care.

Tuesday I opted for Citizens Area Transit buses. After an hour studying the CAT website, I chose the eastbound 204 from Sahara Avenue and Fort Apache Road and the southbound 111 at Pecos Road. It eventually stops at the Sun's Green Valley office.

However, I live 2.2 miles from the 204's westernmost stop. I planned on carpooling to the bus stop with The Other. But that was derailed by his bicycle commute.

Plan B: Pedal to the bus stop and load a bike and bag of work clothes onto the bus. But I already was showered and dressed. Plan C: Ride another CAT bus around Summerlin before beginning the 90-minute commute. Ick.

I chose Plan D: Drive my car 2.2 miles to the bus stop instead of 23 miles to work for a park-and-ride sort of thing. A co-worker said I "cheated." Two 45-minute bus rides later, it didn't feel like cheating.

Since it takes the same amount of time to ride the bike, on Wednesday I loaded bags onto my commuter and pedaled across town on Desert Inn Road. I recall hearing a funny little noise in the drivetrain and thinking, "I should have this thing overhauled soon."

Soon came seconds later. The pedal cranks balked like a 5-year-old on the first day of kindergarten as I crested the top of the Desert Inn arterial.

Five expletives, two handsful of chain grease and one cell phone call later, I was seated in The Other's Volkswagen with a dead bicycle and deflated plan.

We drove back to Summerlin (hey, two's a carpool), where I showered, dressed, packed more work clothes, loaded one of my other bikes into my car and drove to the office. I arrived at work by 9:45 a.m. with a facial expression daring anyone to say, "cheated."

I pedaled home Wednesday and rode in and out Thursday and Friday. The bike is faster than the bus.

Still, people riding the bus looked serene. They read books, worked crossword puzzles, listened to CDs, dozed or talked quietly with people they knew. None looked antsy about being late.

Maybe they chose better routes. Maybe their help requests to CAT's website were answered.

Or maybe they don't sweat the choices because they don't have any.

As our bus headed east on Sahara on Tuesday, nearly every single car that passed had one person in it. Maybe they're clueless.

Or maybe they've tried the alternative and found it's truly not one much of the time.

"My 20-minute drive by car would be an hour trip by bus, not counting the mile walk to the bus stop," a reader wrote me Sept. 8. "Until the bus is more convenient, I will keep driving my car."

Sometimes the choices aren't easy.