Fear Of Flying On A Bus

Ok, so I'm one of the Five. The last, in fact, in nearly every respect (including respect itself) but nonetheless, I need to be there. Where? A town in Western Pennsylvania called New Castle.
And why? Oddly it seems simple enough- thats where Mother bought the burial plot, years ago before the fuzziness of Alzheimers grasped her. Thats where Dad is buried, in full form, and thats where number One (of us five) intends to take Mom's ashen remains.
It would appear from the advanced purchase that those were her intentions. The irony is, that while it looks as though they are being complied with, the facts of time, with their elements of mental disease and geographical displacement have circumvented the cornerstone of those final wishes. She's not in Pennsylvania anymore, and she's been cremated.
How is it that things can't just be easy?
So, duty calls, but the money tree has not bloomed. I do feel awkwardly fortunate that Number One is willing to pay my transport fare. She'd like me to fly...on an airplane...in the sky.
Frankly, I'd much rather go by train, but it costs more than flying? What? No shit. Renting a car for the roundtrip looks like a good deal intil you factor in present gas prices. Forget it.
So, do Greyhounds still smell of tobacco cologne and vomit?