Car Pool Richmond May 2026

"Morning," Carl grunted.

She did. He put the Crown Vic in drive.

"I can take BART," Sofia said, but her voice cracked. BART meant three transfers and arriving covered in someone else's coffee. car pool richmond

The four of them stood on the shoulder of the exit ramp, six o'clock traffic roaring past, and waited for Marisol's cousin to text back. No one complained. No one checked their phone for the time. "Morning," Carl grunted

"Just coffee," Carl said.

They didn't talk about their lives outside the car. Carl didn't mention that his wife had left him last spring, taking the good frying pan and the dog. Darnell never said why he flinched when a truck backfired near the toll plaza. Sofia didn't bring up the eviction notice tucked behind her cutting board at work. And Marisol never once mentioned the letter from immigration services she kept folded in her vest pocket. "I can take BART," Sofia said, but her voice cracked

Marisol smiled—a rare, tired thing. "And I'll bring coffee. Real coffee. Not gas station."