First order of biz was to get out of Ewa. I'd have loved to have taken the little Suzuki Custom—I'd actually come to like it—but I couldn't be totally certain I'd cleared it of any homing beacons. So I hopped The Bus—that's what it had emblazoned on the side in bright yellow, The Bus, in case anyone mistook it for, say, The Art Gallery, or something—and cruised north into Waipahu. Apparently , this used to be another distinct city, like Ewa, recently absorbed into the sprawling mass that was Honolulu.