My kids have grown past the school bus stage. But I have numerous unfond memories of meeting the bus.
My son had several contra-temps with the drivers. Once, the driver drove the bus, in winter, down Upper Lorne, a very narrow dead end with cars parked on both sides. She had to get someone from the bus company to come and direct the long backing out. Next day, someone’s son, who shall remain nameless, supplied the driver with a map showing all the dead ends in the neighborhood. He ended up in the office, and shortly after that gave up tormenting the drivers, instead he walked to school. It turned out to be faster.
I saw this message on the bus parked up the street:
What’s the point of this? Once upon a time a bus driver made a mistake? Who cares?
I remember several dreadful drivers on my kids’ buses. One particularly nervous young woman really should never have been behind the wheel of a large vehicle, and took out all her anxiety on the children who were forbidden to do anything; even breathing or looking out the windows was chancing it with her.
But one morning, in a shock development, the boys rallied to her side when she finally did something they could respect – she hit a parked car going down a street she wasn’t supposed to be on. It was the most fun they had ever had on her bus, and as they all yelled and pointed and shouted “cool”! it looked like she had gone from zero to hero in their eyes, all in a split second.
Then she started to cry, and the cool factor disappeared in the teary blink of an eye.