A Thousand Miles From The Place I Was Born

So get this: the other day, I was talking to my Mom on the phone. I’ve mentioned her before. She is suffering from kidney failure and while she waits for an available kidney to be transplanted into her body, she has to go to dialysis three times a week. Usually my Dad drives her, but it’s taking a toll on him. He works night shifts and sometimes doesn’t get more than an hour or two of sleep because he has to take her to and from the dialysis center, which is 20 minutes from their home. It used to be an hour from their home, so this is an improvement. But it was still rather difficult, so my Mom started researching different options. She discovered a local transportation service that assists the disabled and elderly in getting to their appointments. The name of this service? Seneca Commission on Aging Transportation.

They call it the SCAT bus.

I started laughing hysterically, and my poor Mom was a little surprised by my reaction. Confused, she asked me what I found so funny. I know there are other definitions for this word, but the first thing that popped in my head wasn’t jazz. Don’t organizations think about their inevitable acronyms when they come up with names? I mean, Van Halen knew what “For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge” would end up being called. This isn’t rocket science, people. Do you know why the people in Fresno decided to call their local transportation Fresno Area Express, or FAX?? It’s because Fresno Area Rapid Transit would have been just plain wrong!! Nobody wants to ride the FART bus, any more than anyone wants to ride the SCAT bus.

And yet, the SCAT bus is helping my Mom. So she’ll giggle every time she gets on it, and I will sleep at night knowing that I corrupted my mom’s innocent brain just a little more.

If you want to have a good laugh, read this (quite serious) article about the SCAT buses. And don’t blame me if you pee your pants a little bit.