I know it sounds strange, I have fond memories of Greyhound bus stations. As a child my brothers and I would be placed on a bus at random times and random hours by my mom. As a single mom with three boys and a not-so-great ex-husband (my dad) she would frequently get frustrated and send us to visit him. I guess I was young enough that it was an adventure and not a burden. I remember those buses...the stations...the smells.
I remember sitting in the back row of the buses with my older brothers, my protectors I guess, not sure what they could have done really...from Sacramento to Monterey we saw all the scenery good and bad.
I saw this bus station this morning and I was a little suprised the feelings it brought out.
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