The best way to see the real US

"We should be in downtown Baltimore about 7.05. Now all of you are probably familiar with the Federal regulations concerning controlled substances such as tobacco, and it goes without saying that none of us will be smoking any of these on this trip. Except at the rest stops.

"Greyhound Lines has also adopted a policy of absolute zero tolerance towards alcoholic beverages of any kind being consumed on my bus. If any of you should however choose to disregard these regulations in any way, then I sincerely hope you have brought along a loved one to help you stay warm along the roadside. Because that is exactly where you are going to be."

That's how it always starts. Every Greyhound driver in the eastern states has developed his own surreal variation on the spiel. A particularly good one, delivered from behind the wheel in a deep, faintly mocking black baritone, may elicit some laughter from the folks who have heard it so many times before, or even a round of applause. Welcome to Greyhound Lines Inc, the most convivial and democratic way of seeing America since the wagon train. You can settle for your package tours to Manhattan or a Disney park, but if you should be so depraved as to want to see the real America, you'll want to get on terms with the Dog.

Simon & Garfunkel's US anthem, "America", is a hymn to the Greyhound, albeit one written in the good old days of the Sixties when smoking was permitted in the last three rows of seats ("Toss me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat"). Tonight, as the re-formed duo sing of "Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike" as they play Auburn Hills in Michigan, the crowd will harmonise - even though very few of them will have been near a Greyhound for years. There are tens of millions of well-scrubbed Americans who wouldn't be caught dead on a bus, as if they were afraid of being shanghaied back into the working class. That leaves a clientele rich in students, Hispanics, blacks, senior citizens, and people who just don't like cars.

The Greyhound got its start in 1914 in Hibbing, Minnesota, transporting iron miners. Its operators had the foresight to build it into the first nationwide bus line, and they got their big break with the film It Happened One Night (1934), in which Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert rode a Greyhound overnight to Florida while the passengers sang "The Man On The Flying Trapeze". The Dog has been a national institution ever since. When the Freedom Riders of the civil rights movement went down south in the Sixties, Greyhound is what they were riding; one of their buses got firebombed in Alabama in 1962. The Greyhound station in Clarksville, Mississippi, the Gateway to Chicago, is a blues legend, and it is now incorporated into the Delta Blues Museum there.

All the while, Greyhound has been gobbling up other lines, or making deals with them, and is close to achieving the corporate goal of a seamless network of transport covering all of North America. It's an introspective, funny little billion-dollar corporation. Though a private-sector monopoly, the company doesn't really act like one - in fact it seems more of a modest, sincere, middle-aged public service.

Most of the stations these days could use a little work - even those, as in Washington or Cleveland, that are registered Art Deco landmarks, and almost all are in fringe-downtown locations. A few are spooky wastelands, as in Los Angeles, and one or two can be dangerous at night. But once inside, you'll find buses that are admirably clean, comfortable and well-kept; the grey-uniformed drivers are 100 per cent competent and professional. Buses are by far the safest way to travel in America, with a record even better than that of the airlines. Wherever you go, you'll discover the unexpected brand of travellers' civility that North Americans have been polishing for a long time. You're close to the ground; you can talk on a bus in a way that you could never do on an aeroplane or a train. Someone might buy your dinner at the rest stop just for the hell of it (my lifetime score is something like three bought, three received). Refreshments and restoration on a Greyhound trip are pot luck. Sometimes they will stop at a truck-stop or diner where the cuisine is impressive. Four times out of five, though, it will be McDonald's, or worse.

You'll hear some good talk, and some not-so-good, but you'll find it a refreshing change from the heavily sedated, have-a-nice-day America of the airports and the malls.

East of the Mississippi, Greyhound can be a majority black world. Good conversation and a contrary view on world and local affairs are assured. California Greyhound stations are often mini Mexican villages, full of gamely smiling farmers with gnarled hands and broad-brimmed straw stetsons, off home to see the relations. He's counting his pretty children every few minutes and silently wishing the wife would do a better job of entertaining them. It's a long way to Nogales.

Other people ride the Dog too. There'll usually be one Norwegian with a Scandinavia-sized backpack. Out west, you'll meet some real cowboys; they use Greyhound to get from one job to another when the pick-up is down or when they have had difficulties about their drivers' licences.

Truck drivers ride, too, as do circus people, like the young ex-elephant trainer I shared a discreet bottle with on a long snowy night between Bozeman, Montana, and Seattle, Washington. There was plenty of time to hear the sad story of how his favourite elephant had put an end to his career with a sudden whim to break a dozen of his bones. Sweetest disposition in the world.

There are two schools of thought about Dog-riding for pleasure. Most prefer to do it in daytime, and enjoy the scenery. But when the scenery does not promise to be compelling (just about anywhere between Indianapolis and Denver, for example), born travellers don't like to waste daylight.

You may be seduced into some intimate midnight conversation with total strangers, and uncanny rest stops in the middle of nothingness where the entire ridership tumbles off the bus for a smoke in the cold. But for sleeping, Greyhound seats are better than aeroplane seats, even better than the seats in a Corail French train. They aren't oversized or lavish, but they're the best seats in the world. They save you the price of a hotel, and a restful night in the bosom of Greyhound Lines will give you a good start on the day's activities.

The slogan is: "Travel throughout North America with safety, dignity and convenience". Greyhound sends off more than 20,000 buses every day. The busiest line connects New York to the casinos in Atlantic City, but you can ride a Greyhound to the Yukon, or to Guadalajara or Tampico. You can ride over the top of Hoover Dam on it. The Dog will take you to the manifold delights of Chicago. It will take you to the prairie oasis of Kansas City, the "City of Fountains", or to Detroit, to see ruins and Art Deco treasures and Diego Rivera murals. It will take you to Portland, Oregon, America's most progressive city, or to Fort Lauderdale or Taos or Las Vegas, to hillbilly paradise in the lovely Ozarks or to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, for the Bach Festival.

You can go where you like. You'll see a different US, one that only rarely makes the American news, the one where almost all Americans live. That's my country, and once you get the knack of navigating it, it's not such a bad place after all. Most surprising of all is the community revival you can sense in most American destinations.

After the urban disasters of the postwar decades, downtowns and neighbourhoods are coming back. Most of this may be a work in progress, but it can be fascinating to watch. Have a look at local bookstores, for maps and guides, for notices of events, and for meeting people; you'll also see a large number of titles on local affairs and history; this is part of the community revival too. Some day this local effort will find its way on to the national scale, and make an America that turns its better face to the world again. In the meantime, it can be fun to inspect a community that's a century or two old, its monuments and memorials, its architectural triumphs and museums, its particular outlook and eccentricities, its troubles and its celebrations.

Then, brother, it's back on the bus.

TRAVELLER'S GUIDE

Greyhound has closed down its UK office to cut costs, but various British agents, including STA Travel (08701 606 070, www.statravel.co.uk), sell tickets and passes. Alternatively, you can find out all you need to know about the Dog - route maps, passes and schedules - on the excellent website www.greyhound.com. Telephone enquiries can be made on 001 402 330 8552, or within the US for free on 1 800 229 9424. The phones are unstaffed between 3am and 5am central time (9pm to 11pm, British time). If you prefer to fix things as you go along, you'll find the best thing about Greyhound is the sheer simplicity of it all. Just line up and buy a ticket, check your bags and get on. There are no ticket or seat reservations on Greyhound. On the other hand, there's usually plenty of room, and the company is good about running extra buses when a scheduled service fills up.

Greyhound fares run about 10 cents a mile: $46 (£30), for example, for the 10-hour one-way ride beside the Mississippi from Memphis to New Orleans. For distances longer than 900 miles, you may get a better deal on a low-cost airline, such as Southwest, AirTran or jetBlue.

The big bus deal for foreign travellers, though, is the International Ameripass, allowing unlimited travel for periods of four to 60 days. The cheapest is $140 (£93), the most expensive $519 (£176). You can make Greyhound Lines Inc heartily sorry it ever sold you one of these. For periods of three weeks (priced at $339/£226) or more, it is easy to wring three or four times the value out of it.

A wide range of other passes and discounts is available. Some of them are regional, some work in Canada and Mexico, and on Greyhound's 56 affiliated North American lines.

For more details of the Clarkesville bus station that is now part of the Delta Blues Museum, call 001 662 627 6820 or visit www.deltabluesmuseum.org.