I met Bob Shimeld only once, several years ago, on a bus. We chatted for all of 15 minutes, if that, but the conversation stuck with me. I never forgot him.

It was a summer morning in Longview, Texas, and the bus picked up Shimeld in front of a Walmart store on the north side. Boarding took longer than usual because the driver had to get up and help Shimeld with his electric wheelchair. The back of his chair, I noticed, had been decorated with a Massachusetts novelty license plate that read B-O-B, for Bob.

Shimeld said he moved from the Northeast about five years earlier to escape the winters in his home state. “If you stay still too long, your wheelchair will freeze to the ground,” he joked. “No snow tires for a wheelchair.”

He claimed to have thrown a dart at a map of Texas. The dart hit Longview, so that’s where he went. He liked the place. The people were friendly. He was a 72-year-old military veteran who described his days as “a lot of sitting around,” which was easy enough to do in a wheelchair.

I got off the bus a few stops after Shimeld boarded, and I never saw him again. After that day, I also never got back on the bus. When I am in East Texas and need to make a grocery run, or want to go to a restaurant or anywhere else, I hop in my Jeep or ride with someone else. Our cities are built for getting around with a car. My only reason for riding the bus on that day was to visit with the passengers of Longview Transit for a story that appeared in the newspaper.

The passengers I met included elderly retirees who could no longer drive safely. Other passengers worked the kinds of low-paying jobs that help keep the rest of our lives running smoothly: a grocery store cashier, for example, and a hairdresser with epilepsy. One man named John Solomon had just finished his shift scrubbing dishes at one of my favorite Mexican restaurants. His hands, wrists and forearms were peeling badly from the soapy water, but he hadn’t noticed. He was traveling home to spend the evening with his young son and daughter.

Most of the people I met that day were dealing with less-than-ideal circumstances, but they were upbeat and optimistic about their futures. They had jobs and homes, and they talked about their determination to better their lives. They seemed to make Longview a richer place. Somehow they managed to do it all without a vehicle, a complication that most of us would never consider.

That was in 2009. Shimeld died on Dec. 16. I read about his death in the newspaper. He was trying to cross McCann Road near a busy intersection not far from K-Mart when a pickup turned onto the road and struck him.

The News-Journal reported that Shimeld was the sixth pedestrian killed in the city in 2014. That’s three times the average death rate for pedestrians in Texas, the paper also reported. A subsequent editorial described the “grim realities of the danger while walking” and noted that municipal officials are aware of the problem and are planning to address it in the city’s next comprehensive plan. Well, good.

Where Shimeld died, the intersection does not have a crosswalk. Lots of the city’s intersections don’t, because so few people need them. But some do. People like Shimeld. I’ll try not to forget that.