I rode the dog many, many times during the seventies and my experience is pretty much limited to that decade. A few short runs in the eighties and nineties on competitors coaches but nothing like the rolling circuses on Greyhound. Sex shows, dope deals, arrests, screaming babies, screaming drunks, body odor, stinking foods, insane drivers. It could be bad. I remember a few good trips though, one in particular where it was me, and old lady and the driver for about eight hours. I sat up front and drank beer and we talked the whole way. Hurtling through the night, while Granny slept in the back. Nice trip.

Nothing is simple anymore. Nothing ever works. Nothing ever fits. Everything's gotta be special. Standard is never good enough.