When I was in third grade, I started riding the Metro bus alone. At first, I was allowed to ride to school only, but eventually my parents extended my privileges to include my favorite childhood haunts: Grandma's apartment, Pike Place Market and, in the summer, Seattle Center. Back then, the bus symbolized independence. It gave me a power rare among my 8-year-old peers: the ability to get around the city without the assistance of an adult.

By the time I turned 16, a new power beckoned: a form of transportation that was available on demand and did not require an umbrella or an extra pair of gloves. Like most young Americans, I believed the auto industry's propaganda: that a car was required for my transition to adulthood. For the next 10 years - except for a short time in college, when I found myself unable to afford a personal vehicle - I left the bus behind.

Eight years ago, I returned to Seattle to take a job at a software company based 15 miles outside the city. I promptly purchased a sporty coupe worthy of a twentysomething single professional and (because I certainly couldn't move way out to the suburbs) began driving it to and from work. A few months into my new job, as I sat on the freeway - mid-commute - and surveyed the damage our car culture had infl icted on the beautiful region I call home (pollution, traffic, sprawl, dwindling forest cover), I decided to stop being part of the problem.

So, I returned to my roots and started taking the bus to work. After an initial adjustment period, I quickly grew to love my bus commute: the regular walks, the daily contact with other people, and (especially) the uninterrupted reading time. After several months of regular bus commuting, I started riding on weekends (downtown clubs and theaters are more fun when you don't drive). Eventually, I was using my car so rarely that I decided to try living without one. I sold my beloved coupe in March of 2003 and have used the bus as my primary form of transportation ever since.

And I've never looked back.

Don't get me wrong. A bus-based life is far from perfect. I don't like waiting - especially in the cold. I don't like sitting next to people who smell bad, or cough on me or talk loudly on the phone. I don't like riding on rainy days, when the fl oor is slippery and the windows so fogged up you can't see your stop. I don't like standing when the bus is crowded. I don't like drivers who ride the brakes. I don't like practical hairstyles or sensible shoes. But those are minor irritations compared to what I've gained. For instance:

• More money. It doesn't take a mathematician to calculate that insurance + maintenance + parking + depreciation + skyrocketing gas prices (not to mention the cost of the vehicle itself) = a lot. Without those costs, I spend my bus rides counting zeros.
• More (yes, I said more) time. Now that I am dependent on the bus, I am more deliberate and organized about the trips I take. And when I do go somewhere, I spend my travel time reading, writing, napping or catching up with friends - not cursing the driver in front of me.
• A harder body. While the drivers of the world hurry to the gym to run in place for 45 minutes, I get exercise naturally. This means no hamster wheel, which means (you guessed it) still more free time.
• Reduced stress. Traffic? Parking? Accidents? Road rage? No, thanks.
• A better social life. I've met many people on the bus, including (believe it or not) my husband, who is also car-free. We were both riding to work.
• An eased conscience. I feel good about signifi cantly reducing my impact on the earth.

And then there's the most important benefit, which has nothing to do with firmer abs or a bigger bank account. What I love most about my bus-based life is actually riding the bus. Every day, I sit by my neighbors. I turn my head to look at beautiful children and plug my ears to block out loud ones. I roll my eyes at young lovers, eavesdrop on married women's gossip and chuckle at the posturing of teenage boys.

Every day, I have adventures. Every day, I hear stories. I would never trade that for easier access to the mall.