Riding out the recession

Have you ever really looked at the advertisements on the MAX? Amid real estate adverts and warnings to stay off your cell phones lie the Poetry in Motion placards, injecting a little bit of sunshine into an otherwise dreary morning commute. Perhaps you’ve also noticed that they haven’t been changed for the last three years.

The national Poetry in Motion program is returning to Portland buses and trains after a three-year hiatus. The placards, which showcase work by Portland high school poets and local writers including Oregon Book Award finalists, were cut in 2007.

The placards wouldn’t even be returning now if not for the charity of a Wilsonville sign maker and Lamar Advertising Company, who installs TriMet advertising. Literary Arts, the nonprofit that has worked with TriMet since 1997, hasn’t been able to afford the $10,000 needed for new cards and TriMet, who is donating the advertising space, wasn’t willing to pay for the poetry itself.

You see it in high schools and federal programs all over the country—when money is tight, the arts are the first to be cut. The disappearance of the Poetry in Motion placards is a sign of TriMet’s financial woes. TriMet is considering cutting service to some areas, increasing the time between arrivals by two to 10 minutes and a 5-cent fare increase to make up lost revenue.

About 55 percent of TriMet’s operating revenue, or $210 million, comes from payroll taxes. With Portland’s high unemployment rate and lowered passenger revenue, the company is looking at a $27 million shortfall.

The proposed bus frequency reductions and line eliminations are a last-ditch effort by the company to cut costs. Last year, they faced a $31 million shortfall and had to lay off 120 employees while also instituting a hiring and salary freeze. Service was virtually untouched.

TriMet’s recent discontinuation of Fareless Square has left a lot of Portlanders angry, and the new changes aren’t helping. The company has held five neighborhood open houses and three public hearings to address the public’s concerns and consider public feedback on the proposed plan.

Cutting stops with low ridership is a natural process that transit companies all over the country do yearly to increase efficiency.

If having to walk two extra blocks means that someone gets to keep their job, I don’t have a problem with that. But TriMet has a serious problem that they are refusing to address.

The Westside Express Service (WES) is a blight on TriMet’s budget. It took $161 million to build and only attracts about 1,000 riders a day. TriMet pays $50 a mile to operate WES, compared to $16 for MAX. The cost of operation is about $20 per WES commuter, 10 times more expensive than the MAX. In its first year, there were so many breakdowns that TriMet bought two used locomotives from Alaska to use as backups this summer.

Because the WES leases and shares freight tracks, TriMet can’t alter its schedule to include weekends or increase daily trips. And unlike the whisper-quiet MAX light rail, the heavy WES isn’t able to work near communities or work with housing committees to build around the line to ensure ridership. 320,000 MAX and bus riders have to suffer for the benefit of the 1,200 WES users because TriMet is too heavily invested to abandon their sinking ship.

Think of WES as the annoying friend from high school that happened to have a car. He’s loud, he smells, and 90 percent of the time, he’s completely useless. But because you need him for those few hours on Friday nights, you’re willing to put up with him for the rest of the week.

WES is the single largest user of biodiesel fuel in Oregon. During last year’s 16 full days of breakdowns, TriMet shuttled WES users using an armada of gas-guzzling buses.

WES costs $100 weekly per rider. For that amount of money, TriMet could lease a brand new hybrid car for each of them and save money every month. If the commuters were truly responsible and carpooled, the savings would be astronomical.

TriMet is quick to point out that it offers the first and only suburb-to-suburb commuter train in the country. I think I know why.

So the next time you’re wedged between “Doesn’t Shower Guy” and “Talking on the Phone Guy” on the Red Line from Beaverton, think of the man using the WES and its Wi-Fi as he stretches out in his barely occupied cabin. He can watch Netflix on his commute, but at least you have some new haikus.