First, traffic for mid-week was abnormally dismal. A few days ago when I wrote the first of this now two-part series, it was early in the seven-day calendar. Life was a bit mellower. Traffic was forgiving and rolled smoothly. Then came an abnormally-drastic change, and all bets were off.
I have a fairly-impressive 93% on-time performance over the past year. While this pleases the spreadsheet-happy managers, it's simply a by-product of safety and efficiency. As a perfectionist, I'm constantly striving to please my passengers. They need to get places on time, and they do their part so I do mine. They're at the stop on time and board with little fuss. Most are professionals and have little patience for overly-friendly operators. Just do your job, driver. I get it, and the first week of this run I've concentrated on doing just that. On the day I'm describing, there were many sighs as I encountered numerous obstacles to my OTP.
While it may not please management, I tend to growl, bark and honk at unruly or rude motorists who fail to respectfully play their part in traffic. The next moment, I'm pleasantly welcoming new passengers and wishing those exiting the finest days of their lives. I must remind them of an old dog who snarls at the cat, then jumps into Dad's lap to give him wet canine kisses. It's a kind of Jekyll-Hyde existence.
On the second day of this run, I noticed there was no other operator waiting at the end of the line. Nobody to commiserate or share road stories with. Only as I left did another operator roll into the layover area. As you may have guessed by reading, I'm somewhat a social animal. Just one layover affords me the chance to mingle with others of my kind.
Back to the route though, I gritted my teeth and rolled slowly with the heavy flow of traffic. My breaks were cut short due to being late. Yet I persevered and drove the same. Careful, measured and patient is my trademark. One lady kindly stopped as she exited to give me a compliment. Although I was late and was inwardly thinking, "Willya hurry and leave so I can shut the door and blast, lady?" it's uncharacteristically-rude for me to do that, so I didn't.
"You're a good driver," she told me. I was happily surprised by this unexpected compliment.
"Why thank you!" I replied, hopefully modest in tone. "What makes you say so?"
"You're smooth and deliberate, for one thing," she said. "Plus, you're patient and kind. Thank you for doing what you do."
With that, she skipped out the door. My soul jumped a mile over the line of cars ahead of us. It's rare somebody notices the care I put into this usually-unforgiving profession. Most people are so engrossed with their cell phones they don't pay attention to what their operator does to safely guide the beast along. When a passenger leaves with such a tender closing, it makes up for the countless hurtful words and gestures heaped upon us. Thank you, dear lady, and to all others who take the time to leave a kind word or two in your wake.
* * * * *
I've had the great blessing of driving the same route and schedule for three years now. This fall however, my Friday work changed slightly. It's the same line, but a different train. Thanks to my classmate who is one ahead of me in seniority, my regular run wasn't available when I picked. It's okay... I forgive the rotten turkey. (Just kidding, Chuck.)
If you drive the same run for too long, complacency can set in. Although it can lead to mistakes, "my" run had become very dear to me. Many people were regulars, and I miss them. But then, this route serves a part of town that isn't overly friendly to blue-collar bums like me. It tends to be a complaint magnet, but I luckily have been spared.
Today, I took the seat headed the opposite direction from when I last rolled '01 a week ago. Same route, but different schedule, new break and meal times to memorize, stop patterns to learn, and new people. Luckily, one familiar face graced me with his presence. A young man I've had the great pleasure of driving several times. He's sliced through Deke's façade, and happens to know a lot more about routes and the very equipment I drive than I can embarrassingly attest to. A shy lad, but smarter than me by a long shot. I'm jealous of his extensive knowledge of Portland's transit system. It took a bit to draw him out, but we now enjoy (or at least I do... the jury's still out as to whether he feels the same) a detailed conversation on the state of transit whenever he rides. One day earlier this year, he boarded my bus with a copy of JUST DRIVE - Life in the Bus Lane. This was before we were acquainted. When he exited the bus, I pointed at the book.
"Like the book? I happen to know the guy who wrote it."
His response was typical for a teenager. "It's okay, I guess."
Leave it to a kid to humble an old writer who just happens to drive a bus for a living.
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