His driving force

Robert Hamilton focuses on the road as he talks. In the rearview mirror, his eyes peer back, soft and brown; his hair is now considerably more salt than pepper. The fresh interior of Columbia Paratransit bus No. 1938 smells like new shoes: clean, untrodden rubber flooring and leather-like seats. Hamilton’s strong, tan arm maneuvers the giant steering wheel five days a week.

As the bus rumbles down the road, Hamilton’s phone rings. “I hate this phone,” he says, in reference to its piercing ring. “Mom, I can’t talk; I’m working,” he says and hangs up. “She’s 85,” he explains. “And she gets around better than I do. Turn the radio on, and she’ll dance on your feet.”

Hamilton drives for the Columbia Paratransit, which started in 1993 in compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act. The service will pick up or drop off passengers anywhere within three-quarters of a mile of a regular city bus route. Riders include people whose disabilities prevent them from riding the fixed-route service.

Many riders use wheelchairs; others have walkers or seeing-eye dogs. Some people march right on, but all have a confirmation from their doctor indicating their need for the service. “City buses can handle wheelchairs,” Hamilton says. “But maybe it’s hard for people to get to the bus stop.”

Hamilton, 57, has lived in Columbia all his life, minus four years in the Navy aboard the USS Paul Revere. He drove a truck for both Coca-Cola and Pepsi and then worked as a salesman for a beer distributor. “I had driven big vehicles for all of my working life,” he says.

But he considers driving the trucks “a young man’s job.”

“I was about 40 when I quit,” he says. He began driving the regular bus routes in Columbia after running into some friends who worked there and now primarily drives the paratransit runs. “I probably would have never thought of it,” he says. “But I like it, needless to say. I’ve been here for a while.”

Hamilton says his training for the job was, “to a degree handling wheelchairs and tying them down, but also about how to treat people with disabilities.” In addition to his two years of experience, he says he read a lot about disabilities and has taken safety-training classes.

A good driver is never in a hurry, Hamilton says. There is a four-point wheelchair tie-down system, and he advises, “Don’t get reckless and just use two.” Hamilton is also sensitive to the needs of his passengers. “Some riders can’t take a lot of bouncing around because it hurts them,” he says. “You’ve got to take it easy on the big bumps. People are in bad shape, you know, that ride these buses sometimes.”

The daily routine

About 98 people a day use the paratransit service; the 2006 budget totals nearly $650,000, a 2 percent increase from the previous budget. Dale Lynn, Paratransit supervisor, says there was a spike in the number of applicants since OATS, another transport service, underwent budget cuts in 2003. He notes that the regular city buses have become more accessible with the addition of ramps as well as lifts, offsetting some of the increased demand for paratransit service.

“All that apply for the service are not certified,” Lynn says. “If an individual shows the ability to access the fixed route, they can be denied.”

The first stop on Hamilton’s Monday afternoon shift is the dentist’s office on Chapel Hill. “I’m not quite certain where 1505 is,” Hamilton says, “but we’ll find him.”

After one wrong turn and a few blocks of backtracking, Hamilton locates Bob Pund, one of about 500 Columbia residents who have been certified for paratransit service. A car accident in 1989 paralyzed Pund from the neck down; he was 20 years old. These days, he gets around with the use of a specialized wheelchair that he operates by moving his head.

“Hey, Bob,” Hamilton says as he clambers out of the driver’s seat and greets Pund like an old friend, casually skipping the handshake. Pund has no trouble, with Hamilton’s help, navigating the lift and positioning his chair for strap-down. “The four-point system,” Hamilton says, as he secures Pund’s chair to the floor. Wheelchair seat belts are attached to the wall, but Hamilton says most passengers choose not to use them. “The ones that use them, though, won’t ride without them.”

“There’s a dollar under my elbow,” Pund says to Hamilton, who nods and accepts the fare. On this day, in addition to the lack of feeling in his arms and legs, Pund laments that his mouth is numb. But it could have been worse, he says. He reveals his perfectly straight, nicely white teeth in a grin as the dentist’s office disappears into the distance. The bus moves on towards home: Paquin Tower.

After sharing worst-ever dentist stories, Pund explains that he studied political science at MU and is interested in the media.

“I like to write columns,” he says. One, that he had published in the Joplin Independent, includes the following sentence: “I see people every day struggle to reconstruct their life and move on. With determination and the help of family and society, people can reclaim life.”

Upon arrival at Paquin, Hamilton releases the wheel belts and runs around the bus to lower Pund to the ground. Pund subtly taps the back of his chair with the back of his head to signal it forward, and then shares a brief farewell with Hamilton.

“Some days you’re really grateful to be up and around,” Hamilton says, when Pund is out of earshot. “He’s a young man — too young to spend his life in that chair.”

Caring for customers

As Hamilton makes his way from stop to stop, he offers little vignettes about each passenger before they board. The seat belts clack loudly against the window as he turns into the parking lot of the Senior Center on Business Loop 70 to pick up Subhadra Sahota, an Indian woman. “She usually brings a sack of bread and gives it to the driver. Not always, but most of the time,” he says. “I pick her up at least once a week. I almost always get bread from her, and I’m not the only driver she gives it to.”

Sure enough, Sahota walks through the doors toting a few small loaves and a couple of halves. She drops the bag of bread silently next to Hamilton and smiles, showing a gap in her lower teeth. Her dark complexion shows few wrinkles for her 72 years. She is dressed traditionally in a loose blue wrap with a long, matching scarf.

“In this country you have to live alone; it is customary,” says Sahota, who sees many others in her situation living in nursing homes or retirement communities, apart from family. She lives with her son and depends on him for housing and food. “I came to this country 15 years ago and nobody told me about it (that people live alone). I didn’t have a job. Now I’m over 70; how can I go now?”

Besides, she adds, “in my culture, after 50, you should not go after money at all. After 50 you have only to sing the songs of God. That is the difference between us and Americans.”

In the daytime, Sahota makes crafts with other community members at the Senior Center.

“There’s no one (at home) during the day,” says Darlene Richardson, who works at the center. “She just likes to sit here and work on her projects so she doesn’t sit at home by herself.” The afghans, bouquets and pillows Sahota makes are sold on consignment. The center gets 25 percent and the vendor gets 75.

“I don’t make much,” Sahota says, “but I am busy.”

As she steps off, Hamilton looks back. “True story,” he says. “That is the most I’ve ever heard that woman talk.”

Rules of the job

“Some days you do a little bit of sitting,” Hamilton says. “We can’t be more than 10 minutes early.” And for Hamilton, a little bit of sitting involves a little bit of smoking. He is standing by the bus just outside a Phillips 66 on the south side of town. He holds the cigarette gently and stares at it more than he drags from it.

“Everybody wants to go to Wal-mart,” Hamilton says. Other prime destinations include Columbia Mall, where he goes just about every day, medical appointments and 1500 Vandiver, a strip mall that includes offices for licensing, welfare, family services and veterans’ affairs.

Under the Boone County Commission’s 2025 Transportation Plan, according to Lynn, Columbia could begin to see changes in the next two years, including new buses and extended service that reaches out to countywide locations.

Hamilton says he almost never has problems with customers. “We have rules,” he says, “and I expect people to follow them.”

“Like, no concealed firearms?”

“That’s a good one,” he replies with a smile.

The regular rules include a three-bag limit for carry-ons, strict prohibitions against verbal or physical abuse and penalties for “no-shows.” Hamilton can only remember one time when a passenger got a little out of line. “I told him to calm down,” he says. “The driver has to concentrate on driving.”

One of the biggest challenges is that people can’t always expect to go right home. “It depends on the way the schedule falls,” he says. “People are scattered about town, and when you deal with so many rides, there are going to be mistakes.”

Also, he says, “If you go to a doctor’s appointment, you just don’t know how long you’re going to be. So we always go back and get them ... when we can.” Hamilton still remembers a day when a dentist appointment ran late, and he couldn’t get back for over an hour. “She was at my mercy to come and get her,” he says. “It’s not like a cab. They have to understand that for a dollar, it’s a good service.”

Lynn says the paratransit service is “not a profit deal at all.” The federal government subsidizes the program, he says. “No way could we make money. We’d have to charge a whole lot more than a dollar a ride.”

Another stop on the way

The bus pulls up to Star Heating and Air Conditioning on Commerce Drive, just off Vandiver, and Dennis Thompson is waiting out front. He wears state-of-the art prostheses on his missing arm and leg; dark sunglasses obscure his eyes — he’s blind — but not his pleasant demeanor.

“Are you looking for a ride, mister?” Hamilton inquires, playfully.

“Going my way?” Thompson counters. “How are you, Robert?”

“Seems like it’s always Monday,” Hamilton banters back, and they both nod.

Thompson was in a motorcycle accident several years ago, says Hamilton, who spends his free time riding motorcycles with his wife. “I don’t bring it up to him unless he wants to say something about it. He says he was horsing around.”

Hamilton looks away, wistfully, before adding, “You can get in a lot of trouble without horsing around, though.”

The end of the day

Outside, just off Worley Street, a high school football team is practicing. The last bit of late autumn sunlight catches on their sky-blue jerseys. “One nice thing about riding Paratransit is seeing parts of the city you’d never see,” says Michelle Millot, a thin, middle-aged woman with a pleasant voice and long, brown hair, who Hamilton says has been riding the bus “since almost the beginning.”

“They’re trying to kill me, Robert,” Millot says after getting picked up from her job at Truman Memorial Veterans Hospital. “Any more paperwork, and I’d topple over.”

She is relieved to be on one of the newer buses — two out of the four in operation came just last fall. “On the old buses,” she says, “If you sit behind the first two seats, there is no suspension. It’s OK for a short ride, but not if you’re going to be on for more than an hour.”

“But it’s a good system,” she adds. “Last I heard, in (St. Louis) it was $3.50, and you had to call a week in advance.”

Columbia Paratransit requires that passengers call, at the latest, by 4:30 p.m. the day before they need a ride. Regulars like Millot renew their ride schedule every two weeks.

A woman Hamilton greets as “Viola” sits two seats up. He is surprised when she introduces herself to a new rider as Mildred Crane. “I’ve only ever known you as Viola,” Hamilton says. The woman is listed as “Viola” on his pick-up schedule, and that’s what the other regular passengers call her.

Now he learns that Viola is a nickname given to her at the Head Start program, where she worked as a “grandma” for seven years.

“Do you want us to call you Mildred?” Hamilton asks now.

“I don’t care what they call me,” she says. “So long as they don’t miss picking me up.”