I like riding Coast RTA buses.
That’s a startling admission for someone who has always prided himself on pushing himself to the limit physically.
“It’s better to burn out than to fade away,” Neil Young sings.
I’ve subscribed to that theory for most of my adult life. I don’t do much, but when I do something I do it to the max. It’s part of my addictive personality.
Part of my daily regimen has included walking anywhere from a half-mile to a mile just to get to the beach. My beachcombing obsession includes walking roughly five miles every day I hit the shore. My longest round trip was 25 miles. I headed north that day and didn’t stop till I was near the northern town limits of North Myrtle Beach. By the time I got home, I was stumbling around like Clark Griswold did on his trip through the desert in “Vacation” — minus the pants on my head. No sense in giving the local yokels a reason to arrest me.
Recently, I’ve taken to riding the Coast RTA bus system some six miles to a friends house and making the trip home walking the beach. Hard to believe. I’d always insisted on hoofing it on both legs of the round trip, but I need to lessen the wear-and-tear on my body. Repetitive walking on our soft sands is slowly wearing at my knees, hip and neck. My posture has gone from bad to worse as a consequence of my constant stooping to get a closer look at shell beds.
Hence, it’s time for me to do something that I rarely do: use common sense.
Coast RTA is inexpensive and convenient. I can get from my bungalow on 65th Ave. North to the transfer station at 10th Ave. North/Myrtle Market and then down to Sixth Ave. South for just $1.75. The transfer costs a quarter. The buses make hourly stops on the Ocean Boulevard route that I utilize, and I’ve found them to be very reliable this spring and summer. Coast RTA is a regional transportation system with spokes that connect Myrtle Beach to Conway and Georgetown.
So, I swallowed my pride a bit, hoping that public transportation will prolong my meandering, beachcombing misadventures. Wanderlust is still part of my very being. Nothing like throwing that rucksack over my shoulders and busting out my walking stick. Instant freedom.
With any luck at all, I’ll be roaming the desert of crushed stone adjacent to the big pond for many years, searching for fossils and much more. The truth is out there, but now I’ll be straphanging on Coastal RTA from time-to-time to get closer to it.