Tuesday evening, she looked around at the people standing in the 804 aisle, a growing phenomenon as escalating gas prices have pried people out of their cars and turned them into Utah Transit Authority devotees.

"We were hoping [UTA] would add service," Sederholm said as fellow passengers nodded.

Not since the 1940s, when trolleys and trains plied northern Utah and fewer people drove cars, has public transit carried so many people. Riders have their reasons: They get subsidized passes, they are tired of traffic jams, they like doing their bit for the environment, they can read or sleep on the way home. Most, though, claim the high cost of driving as their main incentive.

Behind Sederholm sits Bryan Bartholomew. He rides his bike from Pleasant Grove to an express bus stop in Lehi, then from his stop in Salt Lake City to his job at the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation. His federal subsidy means he pays only $5 per month for a bus pass. He figures he would pay $10 a day in gasoline if he drove.

Even if his UTA ride cost that, however, he would pay, he says, because of all the ancillary costs of driving: parking fees, insurance, maintenance, tires. Sure, you can drive it faster, he says. But taking the bus "is totally worth it."

A new study by the Washington, D.C.-based Environmental Working Group shows Salt Lake, Davis and Weber counties are in the top 15 large metropolitan areas nationwide when ranked for household gasoline expenditures, doling out $3,368 per year at the statewide average of $3 per gallon.

UTA can relate. The agency budgeted for fuel at $1.21 a gallon but is paying $2.45 per gallon, leaving it nearly $7 million in the hole for this year.

Jerry Benson, UTA's chief performance officer, says UTA is adjusting its operating expenditures, making midyear corrections to redirect funds to the fuel budget. Expensive gasoline, he says, "is a blessing and a curse for us. The blessing is, people need us more than ever."

Jones says demand for TRAX and more express routes is soaring in Utah, Davis and Weber counties. Every time a route is added it ends up with 20 percent more passengers than projected. As many as 20 people end up standing for the ride. But they love the comfy commuter buses, which have high seat backs, personal air conditioning, reading lights and a few laptop connections.

The number of people requesting UTA car pool matches "has just absolutely exploded," nearly double the requests for the same time last year, Jones says. More than 125 groups of 10 to 15 commuters are on a waiting list for van pools. UTA already leases out 290 vans to such groups, and recently received funds from the Utah Department of Transportation to buy 25 more.

UTA riders are expected to top the state's public transit ridership record set in 1946, when Utahns took 33 million rides on trolleys, buses and trains. This year, Jones says, with the state's population nearly quadruple that of 49 years ago, Utahns will take 34.5 million rides.

"We know now that people are depending on us, we can't cut service," Jones says.

Especially not for people like Mark Leonard, an LDS Church office building employee who moved his family from the Cache Valley to Lehi because of public transit. In the comfort of the 804, he calculates the decision is saving him $800 per month. Leonard believes public transit benefits everyone, including people who don't ride it.

"There's less pollution, fewer accidents," he says.

And it doesn't really take that much longer, says Sederholm, who figures her ride to Pleasant Grove in the freeway's high-occupancy vehicle lane takes about 10 to 15 minutes longer than if she drove.

But UTA service could stand some improvements, the riders agree. Leonard and his seatmate, American Fork resident and PacifiCorp worker Mike Hill, laugh about the man they saw pitch his bike on the side of the road and get on a bus after being passed twice because the bus racks, which can only carry two bikes, already were full.

The riders lament the loss of express routes to Utah County that used to run all day. Bartholomew reckons that if he were to get sick at work, getting home would take three hours because he'd have to take at least two buses and TRAX and wait in between connections. In that time, he says, "I could get to Wyoming."

Orem Mayor Jerry Washburn, who rode an express bus north not long ago to listen to riders, says Utah County is adding 2,000 cars to Interstate 15 each year. He rues the loss of vision that allowed the county to get in this mess in the first place.

You see, Orem was named for railroad man Walter C. Orem as a way to get him to build a line for farmers who wanted to send their goods to Salt Lake City.

"The great regret we all have is we didn't maintain those corridors," Washburn says.