Saturday, 9 January 2010
Off The Buses.
Nobody needs to 'coach' me when it comes to buses. Yes indeed, I've had my fair share of experiences on this mode of transport.
Maybe you can relate to this. You get on the bus. That would be the second bus, after the first bus driver looked straight at you and continued on. You stood there, as that first bus drove by you, with your arms waving frantically, praying for a miracle and hoping that the driver will have a change of heart and stop. But alas no, instead, you get drenched by the worst downpour known in twenty years.
When you get on the bus that kindly stopped for you, the driver decides it would be hilarious to accelerate and brake really quickly. That way, you lose your balance, you wipe out, fall into the lap of an old lady and proceed to dump your two bags of groceries, which were full of eggs, a variety of sticky syrups and fresh sardines, all over her fake fox fur coat.
Lets not forget the times you have been on an almost empty bus. The guy who has had a bit too much to drink, who has plenty of seating options, sits down right beside, or should I say, on top of you. And what does he talk about? This guy with bad breath and body odour? Well, of course, he goes on about the kids these days, the state of the nation, politics, religion and finishes by letting you know the true meaning of life. You smile and hopefully nod your head at the right times. As you try desperately to get off the bus, ten miles before your destination, he gives you a big hug and promises to be your best friend forever.
It has been nearly two years since I drove a car. I remember so clearly that night an ambulance driver decided to customise the rear end of my 'mid-life crisis' 'divorce mobile' (complete with the furry dice). I knew that I needed more exercise, however, I considered this a rather bizarre way of the 'National Health Service', to inform me to get into better shape.
So with all my, shall I say, adventures, on the bus, I have visualised the following situation. I am waiting patiently at the bus stop. I'm getting soaked, yet again. The bus drives by me, yet again. I look across the road at the 'exotic' cars dealership. I go over and ask to test drive one of the 'gas guzzlin' beasts. (At this point, I think I'm having a 'Top Gear' moment). We get into the car and go for a test drive. Destination, my house. I thank the guy for the test drive, tell him I'll have to think about it and proceed towards my front door.
Okay, I'm not recommending that one should really do that. But hmmm.... So soon I will be off the buses. Must remember which side of the road to drive on over here in Britain. Ah yes, I can see it now. Police officer pulls me over and states: 'Sir, you are driving on the right side of the road'. To which, I reply: 'Well, that's okay then, thanks for that.'