T'd Off

I am going to be cliche and post a rant about the T. I promise to try and make it eloquent.
Why does the Green Line need to be rebooted every four stops? Why? The large hunk of metal that careens through the streets of Brookline needs to be restarted more frequently than our ancient, overloaded office Mac. It's a mild frustration when the Mac needs a swift reboot; but when you think about the hundred or so people on the train, and the innocent bystanders outside that could be hurt by a T malfunction, it gets a little creepy. What causes the T to need to be restarted? There's a couple of herky-jerk attempts at forward motion, a telltale high "meep" noise, then the heaters shut off and the lights go off. Suddenly, the embarrassing songs people listened to on their iPod are loud enough for their fellow passengers to overhear (sorry to all the people who heard the new Madonna CD at high decibel levels this morning). After about thirty seconds, the train roars back to life, you grab the iPod back out of the pocket and turn up "Hung Up". About three stops later, the T does the same trick again.
Today it happened at Kenmore, then again at Copley. I leaned against the lefthand door, cradling my coffee and holding the straps on my gym bag as the T rebooted about five times before the conductor even had the idea to tell us that there was a problem and we'd be "moving momentarily." Ah yes, the old "moving momentarily." A nice phrase that must be the official T handbook's line of BS to hand riders. It mentions the glorious feeling of moving through the tunnels safely, on your way to your destination. It also uses "momentarily" which sounds fast, but doesn't make any promises. It could be a moment, or it could be an eternity. It's all subjective. Well played, T, well played.
As I sat listening to the dulcet tones of Madonna and watching my stoic fellow passengers continue reading or spacing out, I thought how laughable it is that the T wants to charge more for services that suck. I remember reading that the T is running out of money for the fuel budget with the high price of gas, but I rode the 66 last week and was happy to make it out alive. The bus driver was a grizzled old man with some kind of fu manchu mustache that became a goatee, and he ate some kind of gigantic sandwich while he drove, maneuvering the bus with one hand through the narrow streets of Allston. He took time out to scream at random passengers, nearly sideswiped two cars, and stopped very short. At some point, the T has to realize that people will get fed up with slow service, a lack of common courtesy, and a snail's-pace response when problems do arise, and decide to either carpool or buy a bicycle.
My thoughts were interrupted by the doors opening, and people beginning to exit before the driver even announced that the train was going to be "taken out of service" and we'd have to wait for the next one. Fed up, overheated and hungry, I headed out of the station to walk the few blocks to my office. Luckily it wasn't very cold outside, and I kind of enjoyed the morning constitutional across Copley Square. Next time I can hopefully elect to walk to work, instead of being forced into exercise by the T.