The Transmobile, a monorail that conveyed patrons between Alpine Center & Motorworld, was my least favorite ride to attend. It was a one-way deal, but people always wanted to make it a round trip ride, which damn near caused riots on busy days. There was no shade at either end, the mid-station was boring and your co-workers were usually lame. At the top, your friends could stop by, or at least wave, on their way to better rides. At the bottom, in Motorworld, you weren't as lucky. But at least had the techs to keep you company.
There were 4 or 5 of them, but over the years they've morphed into Glen and the rest. The rest included: Brian the boss (all I can remember about him was his general resemblance to Doug Henning), the runty guy with the harelip and the other one who wore too much cologne and had a girlfriend who worked at the Renaissance Faire. They cornered me in the parking lot of the A&P one day and lectured me on the sexual hierarchy of wenches, fortune tellers, pickle vendors, knights, etc... I'm getting nauseous just thinking about it.
Glen was the friendliest. He would hang out in the window of the maintenance shack that bordered the loading station and just shoot the breeze. Mostly he'd kvetch about his old lady (they were common law). When I told him I was taking a day off to go to Lollapalooza on Randall's Island, he gave me the address of a video store in the Bronx where I could score some primo weed. Unfortunately, I couldn't convince my ride to make the detour.