Ridin’ the Dog! Greyhound bus documentary from 1989.

Ahhhhhhh! Back when strangers would talk to another. Maybe even make a new friend! I’ve forgotten what life was like back then.

Doesn’t the bus smell like poop because of the latrine in the back?

Here you go. The story to top all bus stories.

Goddammit. R3 beat me to it.

How different things were back then, during my lifetime! It makes my heart sad

LA to Chicago high off my tits, 1979. I only remember the girl stretching out and feigning sleep every time there was a stop, so no one would sit next to her. The rest of the bus was judging her something fierce. And traveling through Indian Country was fascinating.

R6 if possible could you elaborate about Indian country?

When I was 8 years old and living in Chicago, my brother put me on a Greyhound to Menominee, Wisconsin to join my parents who had left a few days prior. Problem was, my brother was supposed to put me on the bus to Menominee, Michigan. Boy, I met so many nice older gentlemen that trip!

The day after a friend of mine turned 50, he disappeared. Never showed up at his job, his lover/family/friends had no idea of his whereabouts and nothing was missing from him home. About 6 weeks later he returned, apologizing for his absence by explaining that he just couldn't handle turning 50. Obviously had scared the crap out of his loved ones, but they were just relieved to have him back. The entire time he was gone he was riding Greyhound buses to just wherever. Kept hopping from one to another, trying to sort out his life.

On summer break in college I visited a friend in Memphis for a few days, having somehow decided that a bus adventure would be great sport. Late at night in that part of Virginia that blurs with Tennessee a good-enough looking Marine boarded and sat beside me, talking a bit then falling asleep, head on my shoulder. The bus stopped for a snack break somewhere, and my seat mate and I went for a piss and compared dicks. We dick a bit of a handjob thing for each other under a shirt, and it was dark and quiet enough and empty enough that we managed some suck action at the end for each of us. His stop was on the near side of Nashville and the bus had fairly filled up with people and a great many departed at Nashville, lots of guitars and people full of optimism, arrived to make it in Nashville they said.

From Nashville to Memphis I learned of my bad timing. A new lot had filled up most of the seats and it became clear that the reason for their animation was that they were making a pilgrimage to Graceland on the anniversary of Elvis's death. People would would around in their seats to ask me if I was doing the same and I like Elvis and was I moved by his death and did I have a favorite memory.

Outside of the sexually forward Marine and the strange and very different brands of bus riders headed to Nashville and Memphis it was fairly excruciating. The ride was not much short of 24 hours, hot, stinky, sweaty, creeping through the ass ends of cities, and filled not with adventurers but with people getting somewhere on the cheap. Never again.

What I remember is riding across completely (or apparently) barren stretches of Arizona and New Mexico where the Greyhound was functioning as the “local” bus service for Indians who, from what I could see, were going from nowhere to nowhere.

R10 did that bus ride help out your friend? Did he sort out his life? Seems pretty extreme. But maybe he had to get away from it all.

I blew a Marine. This was in 1994 when I was taking the Greyhound from Dallas to Los Angeles.

I only sucked it for a couple of minutes but I had to stop because he was uncircumcised. It wasn't the smell or anything, but his foreskin was really tight and I was pretty aggressive and he was afraid the skin might rip.

He kept on telling me that Schindler's List was an great film.

I was younger, so I was more attracted to films like Speed and The Crow, both which I saw in Los Angeles at the Chinese theater

Any other stories?

Goddamn alley way on wheels. Booze, dope, couples looking at print pornography. Simpler days. How I miss them.

In 2001 I used to take the Greyhound from Philadelphia to Baltimore to visit a boyfriend. I was stupid, young, and thought we could make a long-distance relationship work. On one of my trips back to Philly, the guy next to me jacked me off while the lights were out.

On a trip from upstate down to NYC a woman ODed on heroin in the bathroom. She locked herself in there at the start of the trip and when the bus got about two hours into the trip people kept complaining that that bathroom was full so at the next stop the driver came back and opened it up with his special key and found her passed out in there with the needle sticking out of her arm (I was seated right by the bathroom so I saw all this myself). The driver got another driver from inside the bus station to drag her out and we continued the trip like nothing had happened. I wonder if she survived? I guess I’ll never know.

Forget Greyhound. I wish I’d travelled on Ernest Borgnine’s luxury bus.

R19, you have provided an invaluable contribution to this internet web space. You deserve recognition.

Aka Hellhound!

I went from Little Rock to Los Angeles with my aunt when I was 11. It was 1998. It was cool to a kid but I could never do it as an adult. I did see my first Tranny, though. In El Paso of all places…

I'm an eldergay originally from the South and the bus was big back in the day. Long distance trips were always creepy with sex fiends or evangelists hitting you up. Or grifters. Once as a naive young man I was grifted into paying for dinner for two conmen at a bus stop diner. And some Canadian evangelical lay preacher tried a whole trip to convert me. Also was on a bus when two federal agents burst on board and dragged someone off.

"Ridin' the dog" has a whole different meaning in the 21st century.

I was a broke young bitch so I availed myself of the Dog to many times to recount. One time I was going back to Fl from New Orleans (after 3 days of Mardi Gras debauchery) so I was feeling a tad green around the gills. I was in the bus station about 2 am waiting for the overnight express(faster and usually not crowded ) and I saw this smoking hot guy come in in skin tight worn jeans and a t shirt. A very nice mound ,prominently displayed captured my attention immediately. I knew from his deep tan he was a construction worker or the like.

He sat across from me though the station was empty and struck up a conversation .I was wearing a pair of daisy dukes ,a tank top and a shitload of Mardi gras beads so Im sure I screamed gayer than gay. We chat,smoke cigarettes and I proceed to throw out some low scale flirting . The bus pulls in and I think "Shit! Almost had him" when to my utter delight,hes taking the same one ! We sat in the very back beside the bathroom and he pulls out a bottle of bourbon .We start drinking and smoking (yes,it was that long ago) and during the conversation I found out hes an oil rig worker just in from a 2 month stint.

He starts hinting how very horny he is and before you can say Jack Robinson Im playing with his very fat uncut dick . The bus is dark and theres only a few people on it,all asleep ,so I lean over and start giving him some head. As Im doing that I feel his hand snaking down the back of my shorts and fingering my hole . Im a bold bitch granted,but even I didnt think we could get away with fucking on the back seat .He suggests the bathroom might be an option so I go in and a minute or two later,he follows.

To this day I dont know how ,but I was sitting on the sink with my legs under his arms and hes between them slowly working his cock in. We had a most delicious and satisfying fuck (alas not too long,it had been months for him) and he slips out as I clean up and get it together. I rejoin him and we spend the rest of the night sipping and yakking. I thought we had been super slick,but the next morning when we got off the bus the driver gave me a filthy look ! As an aside,I was covered in bruises for days ! Ah youth.

Narrated by Studs Terkel!? I worship that man.

The Ernest Borgnine Bus Tour is amazing! Between him demonstrating the sewage system, and asking “where’s the closest Dairy Queen,” It’s a classic! The monologue at the end is priceless.

My mom was a tour guide for Greyhound in Florida back the ‘60s. Apparently they had your buses back then. At one point they were bought out by Armour Meats and she said the station where she worked, drivers, guides, etc. adopted the motto, “You may beat out buses, but you can’t beat our meat”.

I ride dog which name was Paco. He was good friend and lover. Then horse friend get jealous and step on Paco. I feel very sadness.

R25 your story sounds straight out of gay Penthouse Forum! You sure you didn’t make that one up?

R30 Every word is true. I started having sex at 12 ,and I was very aggressive and dedicated to the pursuit of dick. Ive got dozens of stories no one would believe. Thats why I dont share too many on here,because of the scoffers. His name was Wayne,he was 27, and got off the bus in Lake City Fl. He had a huge adams apple too. But look at me,casting pearls before swine.

Write a book!