A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Easy Commute

On a drizzly Thursday morning outside the subway station, Yasmin Amador sits in a line of cars that snakes along the curb like a taxi line--ready to commit a cardinal sin of urban life: She’s waiting to pick up strangers.

Not just any strangers, but two hitchhiking San Francisco-bound commuters--fellow opportunists who would normally hail a bus or hop the subway but who wordlessly slide into Amador’s car for a brief drive-time marriage of convenience.

Riding together, these three veterans of “casual carpooling” will use the diamond lane to whisk across the always-gridlocked San Francisco Bay Bridge in half the time of one-occupant vehicles.

The driver also avoids the $2 bridge toll and the passengers save bus or BART fare. Everybody wins, says Amador. As long as nobody breaks the quirky but well-established rules.

“If you’re a passenger, you never talk unless the driver talks to you,” says Amador, a special education teacher. “If I feel like talking, then that’s fine. But if I don’t, you better not try talking to me. Or I’ll dump you off at the very next corner faster than you can say ‘stranded.’ ”

And that’s not all. If you’re a passenger, don’t even think about opening the car window or using a cell phone without asking. Don’t request that the driver change the radio or the route. There’s also no smoking, no grooming, no running errands. And no heavy perfume.

Behind the wheel, it’s your job to drive safely and not aggravate your passengers. That means no gas station stops once en route.

Carpooler Mollie Hart recalls being pregnant and getting stuck with a driver who veered between lanes and bragged about his nerves on blind curves, saying, “Sometimes, you just gotta go for it.”

“That was it,” she says. “I decided, for the rest of my pregnancy, never again to casual carpool.”

Each workday morning, about 8,000 Bay Area commuters take a calculated risk that would make most Angelenos shudder. Before crossing the Bay Bridge, they solicit anonymous riders at dozens of pickup spots at public transportation outlets across the East Bay.

Once in San Francisco, they drop off the passengers at customary spots in the financial district.

In the evening, there are carpool lines that form downtown for the ride back home.

Although some cities encourage casual carpooling by setting aside special no-parking zones during rush hours, local transportation officials and police tend to frown upon the idea.

Nonetheless, the practice has evolved since the 1970s into a bona fide, if unofficial, way for commuters to beat the clock.

And these days, there are similar carpooling practices in Washington, Dallas, Houston and even some parts of Los Angeles.

Along the stacked-up San Bernardino Freeway, for instance, harried commuters cruise past nearby bus stops to solicit harried downtown-bound express bus riders. With a shout of “Anyone going to City Hall?” many can quickly attract two willing passengers--qualifying them to use the three-occupants-or-more diamond lanes.

But perhaps no underground commute is older or more established than the one in the Bay Area. One East Bay city was forced to move a carpool pickup spot because darting drivers were endangering schoolchildren.

Police see the daily drill and shake their heads.

“Personally, I wouldn’t do it,” says Piedmont Police Capt. John Hunt. “People may think there’s safety in numbers, but I wouldn’t want to take the chance of getting into the wrong car.”

Caltrans officials also privately frown on the practice, claiming that casual carpooling actually adds to commuter headaches rather than helping relieve them.

“We endure the practice, but we don’t advocate it,” says spokesman Jeff Weiss. “And it’s not just because of the liability issue.”

Casual carpoolers rob income from local mass transit. And since the practice is most popular during the morning commute, evening buses and subways are often flooded with return travelers, causing scheduling problems.

Los Angeles officials say casual carpooling generally isn’t practical in spread-out Southern California.

“Just because this has worked to a limited degree in San Francisco doesn’t mean it’s the answer here,” says Daniel Rawlins, a spokesman for the Southern California Assn. of Governments, which operates a ride-share program.

But in Berkeley, casual carpooling has become local custom. Passengers hop into the back seats of waiting cars, often without even glancing at the driver.

Most ride-sharing commuters try to pretend they’re alone despite the forced company. For the sleepy-eyed, back seats are best. As Hart says, “You can just read a book, sleep or zone out.”

With a dark laugh, a librarian in dreadlocks recalls his first day on the carpool circuit. “Without knowing it, I broke the code--I started talking to the other two people in the car,” he says. “I’ll never forget it. I got a few grunts and then these coldblooded stares, and I thought to myself, ‘Do I smell?’ ”

Other drivers say expectations are not so rigid. While some grumpy passengers keep conversations short, most exchanges, even political ones, are polite, they say.

In a dozen years, Hart has endured bad breath, coughing smokers and other bad hygiene.

There are oddball drivers like the man who plays a tape of “voodoo music,” the woman who insists on reading her passengers’ palms and the man whose car seats and dashboard are shrouded in plastic.

Sometimes, tempers flare--often, over the radio. The program of choice, veterans say, is National Public Radio’s “All Things Considered.” But not for everybody.

“This one guy announced he didn’t like the R&B; music I was playing,” Amador recalls. “He said if I didn’t change the station he wanted to get out of the car. When I pulled over, he shut up and said, ‘That’s OK, I’ll just tune out.’ ”

Carin Chuang recalls the day she wore a bit of Italian perfume.

“Well, this woman driver would just not let up--she worked me over the whole ride, telling me how insensitive I was,” Chuang says. “That was the last time I ever wore perfume to work.”

One driver is so wary that he carries a gun for protection. “I’ve had people sitting behind me who absolutely scared me,” says the man, who declined to give his name.

Many women choose drivers carefully, often preferring to ride only with other women. Difficult riding partners--such as man who tried to dun passengers for gas money--soon pick up bad reputations. Often they become carpool pariahs.

But in California’s car culture, mere safety isn’t the only concern.

“Some people are snobbish--they’ll only get into nice cars,” Amador says. “But I’ve always found that the older and rattier the car, the nicer the people are inside.”

Hart says her sojourns have largely been hassle-free--except for the occasional back-seat driver.

“Some mornings I say to myself, ‘You’re doing the thing your mother told you never to do--talk to strangers,’ ” she said. “But it’s worked out. So far, I’ve never heard of anyone being abducted.”

She glances sideways at her passenger: “Now would you please put on your seat belt?”