The Great Race of Car, Bus and Train

The sun has scarcely cracked the darkness in the eastern sky. Larry Williams sits reading the Scriptures. Janet Ekland is clobbering the snooze button on her alarm clock. Barbara Piazza is smoking her third cigarette.

Another riveting work day ahead. But before they tackle it, an even more harrowing task awaits: the Monday morning Los Angeles commute.

On this day, Williams, Ekland and Piazza will have more choices than any commuter in Los Angeles history as they decide how to negotiate the 45 miles that separate their cozy suburban living rooms from their harried downtown desks.

One will drive a car, one will catch an express bus and the third will climb aboard one of 12 sleek Metrolink commuter trains that took their maiden voyage Monday as the next leg of Los Angeles’ sprawling transit network.

They will all leave the same suburb: the Santa Clarita Valley. They will all head for the same place: the Los Angeles Civic Center. They will all seek the same prize: to get to work on time.

It’s 6:05 a.m. The Great Race begins.

*

Janet Ekland throws a long gray sweater over her red cotton dress and heads into the morning chill. She drives her Honda 7 1/2 miles to the bus stop to catch the Santa Clarita Transit Commuter No. 799. She hates driving--always worrying about accidents, traffic and running out of gas. On her feet are a pair of sneakers and in her blue canvas bag is a commuter’s survival kit: a bus schedule, an umbrella and a paperback book.

Barbara Piazza is giving herself plenty of time to get to the station to catch the 6:26 a.m. train. The only thing she hates worse than riding a bus is driving a car. Dave, the bus driver who took her in on the express last Friday, had asked if any passengers planned to desert on Monday. She had raised her hand. Forty-eight years old and the granddaughter of a train stationmaster, Piazza is pacing around like a little kid as the shiny locomotive cruises to the platform, the new clock tower still awaiting the clock. “Right on time!” she yelps. “Now blow that whistle!”

Larry Williams kisses his wife, Lorrie, goodby. Their four children are still asleep. He grabs the briefcase sitting by the door and navigates a pumpkin patch on the front porch. He drives to work only as a last resort, when he’s running late or work threatens to keep him past 5. He climbs into the reliable 1980 silver Honda he bought brand new. It starts right up.

6:26 a.m.

The radio is tuned to KFI as Williams bumps down Bouquet Canyon Road. The reception will fade before he hits the freeway in nine minutes. A tiny pocket calculator helps occupy his mind for what is sure to be another hour of freeway driving. “If I put away 25 bucks more a month, how much will I have in three years?” Williams wonders, clicking away on the little machine with his left thumb as the speedometer hits 65. It is clear sailing.

No. 799 leaves its last stop in Newhall with 29 passengers aboard. This is an earlier bus than Ekland usually takes and none of the faces look familiar. The conversation hums with the engine and she snuggles into the plush gray seat. “A little catnap in the morning helps me a lot,” she says. The coach heads toward the Golden State Freeway.

Piazza is admiring the quiet as Metrolink’s cushy mauve seats and industrial-strength carpeting muffle the clicketyclack of the tracks. The $144 monthly train pass is $59 more than the bus, but cheaper than driving if you count wear and tear, parking and gas. She looks smugly at the cars backing up on the Golden State. “They should just turn the freeway into a park-and-ride,” she snorts. “Pick ‘em up and take ‘em in.”

6:44 a.m.

The sun has popped up over the mountains and it is shining right into Williams’ eyes. He flips down the visor and heads for the Foothill Freeway. Before he is through, Williams will traverse four freeways, one of them twice. He will go seven miles out of his way and arrive 25 minutes sooner than if he took the direct route--the dreaded Hollywood Freeway. “If I left at 7, I would be hitting traffic now. If I left at 7:30, I would have hit traffic before I left Santa Clarita,” Williams recites.

Across the aisle from Ekland on the bus, two women are asleep. She gazes contentedly out the window at the brushy hills, the mountains a pretty silhouette in the morning haze. “It reminds me of Hawaii,” she muses, “a good excuse to dream away. . . . “

Ekland’s thoughts drift while a supermarket truck cuts Williams off at the Foothill Freeway interchange. Williams sees the Metrolink snake around a bend. “There’s the train!” he cheers. Inside it, Piazza is waving at motorists and spectators out to catch the inaugural journey. She decides the train is moving faster than the cars. Williams decides his car is moving faster than the train. He would rather be riding it anyway.

7:07 a.m.

The 65 m.p.h. cruise Williams has enjoyed all morning is about to end. He is back on the Golden State close to downtown. A gray sedan cuts him off. Two pedestrians walk on the shoulder. Brake lights flash. It always gums up at this point and Williams pays little mind. He is thinking about outings with the kids. Knotts Berry Farm in November and Disneyland in 1993.

The driver is new on Ekland’s bus and he veers toward the wrong exit near Dodger Stadium. Some front-row passengers guide him through the back end of Chinatown. The bus climbs an overpass and the riders spot the train. “Forget it!” scoffs JoAnne Klein, Ekland’s fellow passenger. “You’re looking at an hour and a half’s ride one way, not to mention almost twice the cost. Of the people I know, nobody is going to switch to the train.”

7:24 a.m.

Williams pulls into the driveway of the Union Bank building on San Pedro Street and finds a space on Level 3. He puts on his pin-stripe jacket, picks up his briefcase and tucks his lunch--Saturday night’s leftovers--under his arm. He rides the elevator to the sixth floor and says good morning to Rolando the security guard.

Ekland’s sneakers are already hiking the five blocks to 2nd Street from the bus stop where Old 799 arrived at 7:19, right on time. She avoids transients on one side of the street and cuts through Little Tokyo’s Weller Court.

Piazza’s train is just pulling into Union Station, seven minutes early. The final minutes were a frustrating crawl past the L.A. County Jail and into the sparse, gray rail yard. She heads for a Metrolink shuttle and nearly takes the wrong one. An alert guide redirects her. En route to her building, she spots Dave, the bus driver she deserted, stopped at a light. His bus is nearly full.

7:29 a.m.

Williams takes a seat at his desk, one minute early. “It was a good commute, but after 20,000 miles in a row, it gets a little old,” he said, concluding that he would prefer the bus any day and will try the train today.

7:32 a.m.

Ekland unlaces her sneakers and chooses a pair of black pumps from a box of shoes she keeps under her desk. She remains a bus devotee. “I love taking the bus,” she declares.

7:47 a.m.

Piazza gets off the shuttle and walks 25 yards to the Security Pacific Plaza tower and up to her office. “I’m hooked. I love it,” she says of the train.

All told, Williams in his car made it from doorstep to desk in 69 minutes with a fair amount of stress, the sun in his eyes and no extra sleep; Ekland on her bus made it in 87 minutes with no stress and time for a catnap. Piazza finished last--91 minutes--a rested and born-again rider of the rails, nevertheless.

Contributing to this story were Times staff writers Penelope McMillan and Jeff Prugh.

Comparing Commutes

Larry Williams drove his 1980 Honda Accord hatchback; Janet Ekland rode the bus and Barbara Piazza took the commuter train. All three departed Santa Clarita about 6:30 a.m. during the debut of Metrolink’s trains:

Age: 35.

Job: Administrative services chief.

Commuting Pattern: Has commuted for eight years. Drives only when work schedule requires flexibility. Normally rides bus, but wants to try train.

Commute Activity: Listens to talk radio.

Duration: About one hour.

Comment: “A shorter commute was one reason I moved to Santa Clarita. When I lived in Santa Ana, I had to leave at 5:30, and it took an hour and a half to go 37 miles--a half-hour longer than now, even though I now drive farther!”

*

Age: 35.

Job: Executive secretary.

Commuting Pattern: Has commuted by bus for five years. Intends to continue riding bus because it’s less expensive and more flexible.

Commute Activity: Mostly sleeps, but also talks to regular passengers.

Duration: About 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

Comment: “I’ve overslept my stop only once, by a few blocks. I looked out and said, ‘Where in the world am I?’ Some of the drivers are good about waking me up in time!”

*

Age: 48

Job: Escrow title coordinator.

Commuting Pattern: Has mostly taken bus since taking new job.

Commute Activity: Chatted with passengers, waved to bystanders who watched train from roadsides.

Duration: 10-minute drive to station; train took 62 minutes--from 6:26 to 7:28 a.m., seven minutes faster than scheduled--and ride from Union Station to office took 19 minutes.

Comment: “I hate the bus, and sometimes I miss driving. I’m hooked (on the train). As a child, I used to ride the trolley downtown to go shopping with my mother.”