The roughest ride: a question

By Amy

The passenger must have lived a hardscrabble life. Deep furrows had been etched into the leathery skin of his face, and his short, dishwater blond hair looked dried up and wind-whipped. Incongruously, he wore one of those Bluetooth earpieces that make people look like the Borg from Star Trek.

He was talking to two white, middle-aged, mom-types also riding the No. 6., both with short hair and decked out in T-shirts, one lime-green and one coral, that probably were 100% organic cotton. One woman wore dragonfly earrings, like the kind you could find at Backyard Bird Shop or a natural clothing store.

"The roughest buses are the 4, 72 and the 6," the man told the women. "Once you've survived those, you can survive anything."

I thought about what he said. I've traveled many a mile on TriMet, and the roughest bus for me, at least psychologically, was the No. 10. When I took it, about 6 years ago, it passed Fernwood Middle School just as the kids were getting out. 

The kids had no boundaries or self-control. I would find myself, an adult, sitting in the middle of sunflower-seed-throwing fights and children shouting obscenities at one another. I always wanted to ask them "Did your mama teach you those manners?" but I refrained. That was a battle for another day.

So, readers, I ask you, what do you think is the roughest bus, and why?