Greyhound Bus Ticket Quotes

know whether to blush or get a ticket for a Greyhound bus and high tail it out of town. Jacqueline had clearly taken their casual tryst as something more important than

The bus rumbled and loomed above me like an ocean liner as it idled beside the small Greyhound bus depot next to the Elite Laundry where Mother worked. With door open and the driver standing beside it checking tickets, the bus seemed to me then like Alice's "Looking Glass," which, once I passed through it, would open a whole new world to me—a world so fantastic and removed from Gallup, New Mexico, that I would be transformed into one of the saints or heroes of the books that brought me to this moment of departure. It was the end of August, 1951. I was fourteen years old—a boy about to leave home for a Franciscan seminary 1500 miles away in Cincinnati, Ohio.