IT MAY NOT BE COOL IN L.A., BUT IT WORKS RIDING THE BUS PUTS A MAN IN TOUCH WITH HIS ROOTS.

Byline: Dennis McCarthy 

A buck thirty-five, the bus driver said, eyes riveted on her rearview mirror as she gunned the MTA bus out into traffic.

I set my feet and hung on for dear life, sliding an old dollar bill into a machine that sucked it up faster than a Vegas slot. Two more quarters hit the bottom of the glass change jar.

``Is that OK?'' I asked, reverentially. You don't want to get off on the wrong foot with a bus driver.

I remembered reading somewhere that bus drivers got testy when people showed up on their buses without exact change. Like judges in the courtroom, you don't mess with the sanctity of their bus.

``If you want to pay $1.50 for a $1.35 ride, it's OK with me,'' my driver said, winking at a woman sitting nearby cleaning her eye glasses. The woman, an obvious bus veteran, squinted at me and smiled.

The rube smiled back at both of them, then caromed like a pinball down the aisle looking for an empty seat near the window.

What had it been, 20 years since my last bus ride? I'd been thinking about taking the bus home from work for a while now - a reality check back to my roots.

To the good, old Blue Chip stamp days.

My car mechanics, Tony and Vince, were kind enough to oblige. Tony called me up the other day at work, and said the reality of the situation was this - it was going to cost me $400 in repairs and a day without my car.

Hello, roots.

I called up the MTA hotline to see how I was going to get my roots home that night.

After a 10-minute wait on hold, a pleasant MTA route checker came on the line, and said the 161 bus should do it.

When does it leave, I asked? About five minutes ago, she said. Don't all buses leave about five minutes ago?

I got to the bus stop a couple of blocks from work with about 20 minutes to kill until the next bus was due. I sat down, put on a pair of shades and stuck my mug behind a newspaper. I looked like Garbo.

I used to think more people didn't take the bus in this town because of the wait, but now I've changed my mind.

More people don't take the bus because they don't want to be seen sitting at a bus stop. It's not cool.

It's cool in New York, Chicago and most major cities to travel by public transportation, but in L.A. all it means is you don't have a car.

That's the kiss of death. It's like being seen walking out of the unemployment office at 2 o'clock on a weekday afternoon. Not a good sign things are going well.

I know, it's all stupid and extremely elitist, but, hey, it's the price you pay to be cool in a cool city.

If your wheels are in the shop for repairs, tough - suck it up, get out the plastic, and rent one - preferably a Mustang convertible.

But don't, under any circumstances, cheap out and take the bus.

Somebody who knows you might see you, and pretty soon they're passing the hat around for your family.

``You see McCarthy the other day? Poor guy, he was sitting at a bus bench. Musta lost his job.''

If the MTA is serious about turning the corner on better public transportation in this city, they'd better spend as much time worrying about image, as giving good service.

I'd hire one of those celebrity look-alike companies. Put a Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt or Michelle Pfeiffer dead-ringer waiting for a bus at every stop in the city.

Take this to the bank. Inside of a week, a couple of hundred thousand yuppies now crowding the freeways with their Lexuses and Beemers will be fighting cleaning ladies for a seat on the bus.

Image, baby. It's everything.

All in all, I enjoyed revisiting my old roots from a bus window. I got to see some back streets I hadn't seen for a while driving the freeway, and the price was right - less than a gallon of gas or a cafe latte.

The people were nice, too, but a little distant. I tried striking up a conversation with one guy who sat down next to me. He got up and moved.

A couple of people nodded off, a couple of others talked about what brats their kids were turning out to be. Car-pool stuff.

Personally, I'd like to see it made mandatory, like taking a driving test, that people once a year had to leave the car in the garage, and take the bus to work and home.

It would help us all be less cool, get us back in touch with our roots.

Our good, old Blue Chip stamp days.