I had to experience the wrath of one of these. He came in early February. His technique? Slow
("think about the children
"). I was sixteen, a junior. I was resentful about having to ride a school bus still. His bus slowly edged up to my bus stop. I had to wonder if it was somewhat logarithm
ic and he would never actually get to my stop, but get close. But he did.
I looked at my watch. It was 7:35. The bus ride was painful and stressful on the heart. There were millions of stops. And millions of times we would pass another schoolbus and the driver would engage in one of those secret bus driver waves. But it hit me that we were traveling at an unbearably low speed. We were not even out of my residential area and it was almost 8 in the morning now.
I began to murmur to myself, "Lousy bus driver." I kicked the back of his seat. People around me were fine with this. No one cared that they too would be late for school.
Then the worst thing that could possibly happen with a bad slow bus driver... happened. We came to the traffic light of doom. You know, one of those traffic lights that don't stay green long enough for everyone waiting to get through.
Unfortunately, Mr. David, the bus driver, was unaware that he was COLOR BLIND, as he stopped on the yellow light instead of the red. Doing this, we didn't actually get through this light until almost 8:10. Mr. David murmured to himself too, only he said (in a horrible southern accent with a tip of German in it)
"Come on.. I gotta get der children to der school house!"
I tried to bond with Mr. David.. in that telekinetic way that I failed at.. trying to get his foot to jam into the gas pedal and go. But Christ, he was the worst.
I imagine not only did the hare pass us on the way to school, but the tortoise did as well.
We were 25 minutes late for school.
He did this for days, making us late to school. I wondered if the torture would ever end.
Then one day, I noticed it. He was coming to pick us up a minute later everyday, making us one minute later for school. No one would fire him though because he was probably the only bus driver that didn't drive too fast. I was awaiting the day that I stepped foot on the bus and saw big posters on display saying, "Safety First!" and foam-cushioned walls.
Mr. David was also late in the afternoons. We would have to wait until sometimes 4 in the afternoon for him to get from the elementary school to our school, less than a mile away.
Unfortunately, next year, Mr. David will reign Burcale Road once again with his brake pedal. The summer is shortlived and so is his speed.