Bangor Community Connector

An Accumulation of Small Annoyances

Hank Garfield

When you decide to give up car ownership, two things will happen. You will walk more. And you will become, almost by default, an advocate for public transportation. Neither of these is a bad thing.

It helps if you live in a walkable community with both local and out-of-town bus service. In Bangor, we have the Community Connector and the Concord Coach bus systems. I hate to say anything negative about either of them, because I use them both a lot, and they are as essential to me as a parking space is to a car owner. On many mornings, I have walked the two blocks from my house up to the bus stop, boarded the Community Connector, ridden to the Concord Coach depot, and headed out of town.

Recently the Community Connector went to a fixed-stop system, which makes the routes more efficient and improves the reliability of the whole system. But there is no fixed stop at the Concord Coach depot. Riders transferring from one bus system to the other must get off the Community Connector at a sign down the block and walk approximately 100 yards, the length of an American football field. This isn’t a problem for a healthy person, but what of an older or physically challenged passenger with luggage? It makes no sense.

Twice now, I’ve had drivers refuse to let me off at the Concord Coach depot. They insist, as per the new rules, that I get off at the sign and walk. Then the bus continues on, right past the depot.

Small annoyances like this are a big reason more people don’t use public transportation. It would not take any longer for the driver to let transferring passengers off at the depot rather than the sign. But rules are rules, and they must be followed to the letter.

Concord Coach has rules of its own. The driver won’t let you off anywhere but at the depot. The afternoon bus from the coast arrives in Bangor at 5:30. This is five minutes too late to catch the last inbound Community Connector toward downtown. Sometimes I’ll see that bus after the Concord Coach gets off the interstate on Union Street.

In Blagoevgrad, Bulgaria, where I lived for a year, there is regular bus service to Sofia, the capital, about an hour and a half away. The bus goes directly from one city to the other, but once in Sofia, it makes stops at major intersections to let passengers off who don’t need to go to the central bus station. This makes eminent sense, and provides a friendlier and more convenient experience for passengers. But Concord Coach won’t do it. Rules are rules.

The Community Connector drivers will routinely ask passengers if they need to make a connection to another Community Connector bus. Similarly, the Concord Coach driver will ask passengers coming up the coast if they need to connect to the Cyr bus to Aroostook County. They will hold the buses for a few minutes if anyone answers in the affirmative.

But I’ve never heard a Community Connector driver ask if anyone needs to meet a Concord Coach bus, or vice versa. There seems to be little effort to coordinate the services. Bangor once had a downtown Greyhound bus terminal, but that has disappeared over the horizon to Hermon, where the Community Connector has no service at all.

This isn’t just a local problem. It’s representative of the American piecemeal approach to public transportation. There’s no centralized clearinghouse for ready information on how to navigate from one system to another. The result is an accumulation of minor irritations like missed connections and forced walks and strict adherence to rules that ought to be more flexible. None of these things are debilitating by themselves. But an accumulation of them will discourage people from leaving their cars at home.

I’ve talked with many people who support public transportation and want to demonstrate demand by using it more. My answer to them is that they should use it anyway, even if it’s inconvenient, because transportation planners look at current numbers. It’s the only way to get past the circular argument that public transportation is unpopular in the present and therefore a poor investment in the future.

Public transportation seems unpopular because official policy incentivizes people to drive. If you want better and more comprehensive public transportation, invest some of your time in using what’s already here, despite the accumulation of tiny annoyances that discourage people from using it.

All My Uber Trials

Hank Garfield

Why do people think Uber is simple to use and the public bus system is complicated?

It’s exactly the opposite.

Recently, I decided to up my car non-ownership game and sign up for Uber. I’ve had great success living in Bangor, Maine for the past 17 years without owning a car. I sing the praises of the Community Connector bus system. I rejoiced with my fellow riders when the downtown Bangor Area Transit Center opened in December 2022. But the buses run only during the day, and they can’t go everywhere. It’s tough to get a taxi in Bangor, for whatever reasons. So, I thought I’d give Uber a shot.

I downloaded the app onto my smartphone, no problem. I was a bit surprised that it didn’t ask for my credit card information. Friends assured me that I would be asked to enter it the first time I used the service. After that, they said, the service would be seamless.

I wasn’t at home the first time I needed a ride. I rarely need rides from home, as I live within walking distance of town and the Transit Center. I lined up a ride, and sure enough, the app asked for my credit card info, which I dutifully plugged in. But then it wanted to send two micro-payments to my credit card. I was to report the exact amounts of the payments for verification. The only problem was that I don’t do banking on my cell phone, and I was miles from my laptop.

Fine, I thought. The next time, I would schedule the ride in advance, from home, where I could access my credit card account. (None of these steps were spelled out in advance.) However, the first two times I tried this, I got a message: “pickup location unavailable.” I have yet to take my first ride.

All this is preamble to an observation that gets more and more cemented in my psyche with each passing day.

When I posted the first two sentences of this piece on Facebook, my friend Félix, who lives in Bulgaria, replied (and I hope he doesn’t mind me quoting him here): “the public bus system is a public service and Uber is a twisted organization that tries to make their greed and consumerist anxiety look like sociality and coolness.”

As the Brits say, spot on.

I was trying to help Lisa get to and from a business on the other side of town. After striking out with Uber, I walked to the Transit Center, where a dispatcher (whose name I don’t know but who deserves praise) helped me plan the most convenient route. The bus driver was also helpful, showing us where we would need to be, and at what time, for the return trip.

There is no one to call at Uber for such assistance. And this is par for the course when a private company tries to masquerade as public service. When was the last time you called any private enterprise and did not have to navigate a series of automated prompts before connecting with a human being?

The bus system isn’t perfect. It needs longer hours. Paying passengers taking multiple rides in one day can’t use the transfer system for brief stops. Still, I hate to criticize it, because despite its imposed limitations, it works well. Anybody who can read a printed schedule can use it, and it’s inexpensive and reliable.

The great lie of the post-Reagan era is that the private sector is more efficient than the public. The focus of public services is convenience for the end-user. The focus of private enterprise is convenience (and profit) for the owners of the business. This is happening across society. To see a doctor, you used to make an appointment and show up. Now you must navigate a maze of pre-registration, pre-pre-registration, on-line verification, and electronic confirmation. To get a cup of coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts, you have to “interface” with a touch-screen menu when the guy who’s going to pour your coffee is standing right there, getting an order ready for the drive-thru. And don’t get me started on self-checkout at the grocery store.

More and more, the end-user (the customer) is required to navigate steps in the service process that should be handled by competent, knowledgeable staff. Rather than hire and train and pay employees, companies are increasingly putting the customer last, by making them take on more of the tasks they are supposedly paying for.

Don’t get me wrong: business does many wonderful things. But public services, like education, health care, and especially public transportation, aren’t among them.

A Ballpark and a Bus Depot

Hank Garfield
The author at a recent Dodgers-Padres game in San Diego

I wish I’d kept the comment on the Bangor Daily News website about my piece last December extolling the new Bangor Transit Center. The commentator predicted that the place would be trashed within a month and turn Pickering Square into an eyesore.

Six months later, the station looks as good as the day it opened. There’s barely a cigarette butt on the sidewalk. There are, to be sure, cameras and “No Loitering” signs – and, importantly, staff presence during operating hours and periodic police attention around the clock. But the functional beauty of the station doesn’t seem forced. It works, because people want it to work.

Last month I left Maine for the first time since Covid to visit San Diego, where I spent the Eighties and Nineties raising children and following Tony Gwynn’s baseball career. In 1998 the city held a referendum on construction of a new baseball stadium for the Padres, who until then had been playing their home games in a football stadium with all the soul of a barracks.

Along with 59% of my fellow San Diegans, I voted Yes, because I thought the plan for the new park was visionary, especially for car-obsessed Southern California. Petco Park is right on the trolley line, walking distance from the waterfront, hotels, and restaurants. I finally got to see a game there this spring. The Dodgers beat the Padres, 2-1.

What do a baseball stadium and a bus station, in two cities of vastly different size at opposite ends of the country, have in common?

More than you might think. But I want to focus on two primary themes: Both ballpark and bus depot contribute toward curbing the ubiquity of the car in American transportation. And they each validate the idea that ordinary citizens can achieve real results through representative democracy.

In 1983 when I arrived in San Diego, the football Chargers ruled the sports landscape. The Padres were an afterthought, an expansion team (born 1969) that was never any good. They had to play in the Chargers’ stadium, in Mission Valley, surrounded by freeways and asphalt expanses suited to tailgating but not to a day at the ballpark. Now the Chargers are in Los Angeles, and the Padres are the only game in town. 

The newspapers and television stations were playing it up: the first visit by the Dodgers since the Padres bounced them from the playoffs last year. But I didn’t expect to see a sea of Dodger blue marching through the Gaslamp Quarter an hour before the ballgame with horns and flags and all. A railroad rivalry has evolved since the new ballpark opened. Petco Park is a short walk from the Santa Fe Depot, and hundreds of Dodger fans ride the regular Amtrak trains down from Orange County and LA to see a game, or a weekend series. That didn’t happen in Mission Valley. It was all cars.

The ballpark has transformed the Gaslamp Quarter. The hours before the game reminded me of Kenmore Square in Boston. San Diego has always been a city of neighborhoods. Now it has the neighborhood ballpark it deserves.

Bangor, despite its small size, is a hub. It’s a service center for outlying towns. Traffic arteries lead outward to become roads: Hammond Street to Hermon, Union Street to Levant, Broadway to Dover-Foxcroft, State Street to Old Town. At the center of the hub lies Pickering Square. It’s clearly the logical place for a bus depot. As I wrote in December, the central location is not only most convenient, it sends a powerful signal about the centrality of public transportation in the area.

But not everyone wanted it there. Several people with influence in the community spoke out against it. City Council meetings were packed with people on both side of the issue. The final vote was a 5-4 cliffhanger.

Nonetheless, today there is a bus station. It’s clean, warm, and well-lit, and after years as a dream and six months as reality, it’s a success story about citizen involvement. We elected people to the City Council who supported public transportation; we presented the case for a central bus station to the full Council, and a majority determined that we had the stronger argument. Isn’t that exactly how the process is supposed to work?

Not everybody in San Diego wanted the city to spend tax dollars to build a new ballpark for the Padres, either. But I would argue that it has already paid for itself several times over. It’s the centerpiece of a bustling business area that isn’t dominated by cars. That by itself is worth the price of admission. The sunset and the breeze off the bay are just bonuses.

And I’m tired of hearing about the elitist, out-of-touch “they” who purportedly control our democratic institutions. Ballpark and bus depot reveal this as a lie. Both are shining examples of what “we” citizens can do, using the mechanisms of politics.

 If I walk by the Bangor Transit Center and see a rare piece of litter, I’ll pick it up and put it in a trash can. I suspect a lot of other people who attended those meetings do the same. We may have each played a small part, but we all feel some pride of ownership. At the game in San Diego, I felt something of the same thing.

Bangor’s new bus depot