The month of October I commuted by bus between my home in Columbia and my work at an office on the Inner Harbor in Baltimore. I wish I had discovered it sooner. The buses were nice commuter coaches, with reclining seats like on a plane or train, folding armrests, reading lights, and occasionally electrical outlets for each passenger. The drivers were polite and courteous. The driver of the evening bus, George Harris, made a point of learning the passengers' names and greeting us by name as we boarded. Every evening, as we exited I-95 onto Route 175 into Columbia, he would get on the loudspeaker and regale us with jokes, supposedly from his children Taylor and Elijah. In November my company is moving to Harbor Point, a new part of the city not served by my commuter line. I will miss George, who brought civility, warmth and cheer to the daily commute. I gained some perspectives riding the bus, about Baltimore's architecture and people, and race. Architecture