Dear friends,
Filling in accident reports is becoming a very unwelcome habit! Friday, May 23rd was a busy day - hordes of shoppers out in advance of the 3-day weekend. By the end of my shift, I was running close to a half an hour late. For most of my last run, I was driving in tandem with the bus that should have been 15 minutes behind me. This happens because as one bus gets later, as I have previously mentioned, it picks up extra passengers, slowing it further. The converse of this, is that the next bus picks up less passengers, speeding its journey. While I was to take my bus back to the garage we are based at, the other driver was to leave her bus at Palmers Green Garage and then, rather unfairly, have to fend for herself in getting back to Edmonton. She asked for me to pick her up, and I did.
The last road before the Edmonton garage approach path is Hawley Road. It is fairly narrow and way too busy. Also along the road, there's an office building, a large vehicle testing centre - buses and lorries, a tyre wholesaler and several small haulage firms. The approach road always has loading activity and cars parked on one side, and frequently, lorries and vans on the other. This was the scene that I found on the day of my latest accident. I edged between parked vehicles, coming almost nose-to-nose with a large artic (articulated lorry) coming from the opposite direction. He's bigger than me. I backed off! With the guidance of the other driver, I reversed into a parking position. The lorry driver, without acknowledging my gesture, edged forward. As he was getting closer to my bus, M, as I shall call her, advised me of company policy. If someone appears about to hit your vehicle, DON'T MOVE! If you move, the accident is your fault. If you don't, it is theirs. With at least 4 feet on the other side of his vehicle, he managed to wedge himself into my bus. Other vehicles were trapped. Tempers were frayed. Out with the trusted camera. Hands trembling as I wrote the report. Colleagues tell me not to worry. The garage manager jokes that he won't read my report until Tuesday - I should enjoy my weekend and he'll sack me on Tuesday! I have my witness. There will be no repercussions. But, I still don't like it. 4 pints of cider and two numbers on the karaoke (Summer Breeze and Blueberry Hill) later, I was relaxed.
The previous days' excitement was a bomb scare at 'the Jewish Centre' in North Finchley. I was stuck there for about 40 minutes. A frequent passenger, who introduced herself as Anne Marie, was extremely helpful, finding out what was going on helping to explain the situation to some of the other passengers. She was with her brother, who is somewhat learning disabled. When the emergency Controller gave me the all clear to proceed, I pointed to Anne Marie: This woman deserves a medal. She's been very helpful. She, in a loud clear voice: My name's Anne Marie. That's ANNE... MARIE. No modest embarrassment there! I saw her again the next day (the day of the accident). She didn't get on the bus, but put her mother on, asking me to make sure she got off at the right stop. When I got there, I called out is Anne Marie's mum getting off? Several chuckles from the rear. Not surprisingly, everybody seems to know her.
Those are the nice moments that make the job sometimes enjoyable. Other things that put a smile on my face are the little kids showing me their parent's bus pass - 'I'm a big kid' grins all over their faces, when a kid manages to climb the step onto the bus 'all by themselves' for the first time, and the number of gorgeous women who smile so nicely at me almost daily. A toddler of barely two said Thank you. Bye, as he was leaving the bus - so cute! A schoolgirl's bus pass was left on the bus and handed to me by another passenger. Rather than handing it in to the garage that afternoon - it would be unlikely to be claimed - I gave it to another girl from her school the next day, as she didn't get on my bus. Seeing her again, flashing the pass, was nice.
The new buses are very sleek, and much faster than the old ones. I have heard them described as sexy - presumably by people who would consider an attraction to sheep unnatural! One of the many serious drawbacks is that they have only 20 seats downstairs, giving more standing room. The 125 route is sometimes unaffectionately dubbed 'the ambulance route', for the number of senior citizens who ride it. A particularly annoying feature is that the horn, which wouldn't go amiss at sea, is touch sensitive and on the end of the turn signal lever, which can be extremely difficult to engage. It can be embarrassing when I accidentally let the thing off. Passers-by and other drivers look bemused, once they've settled back into the skins they jumped out of! My heart skips a beat! One car driver, on hearing this, drove through the red light we were stationary at!!
Accident day was eventful. A third incident that I think worth relating is when I must have had over 20 seniors on my bus and other people were taking up some of the seats. A particularly frail woman got in North Finchley and couldn't find a seat. Would somebody please give up their seat for this Lady. Nothing! I got angry. Look! I will not drive my bus if a seat isn't found for this lady. I will not be responsible for her falling over, if I'm forced to brake suddenly. There must be someone seated who's half her age. You should be ashamed of yourselves! I know I would be if I were you! I shouldn't have to ask! Voice from behind: Thank you driver! About time someone said that! The lady was seated. I drove on. Several other people thanked me as they left. One middle aged man wasn't so pleased with me!
One evening, while driving the W15, there were 4 teenage boys on my bus. An Afghani man got on, wearing full national dress. The boys sang the Harry Belafonte number, some words purposely changed, others presumably just wrong: Hey Mr. Taliban. Give me a banana. My initial reaction, I'm ashamed to say, was a chuckle. But I quickly thought of how intimidating that must have been for the man and just how difficult it must be in general for religious Afganis, both here and in America.
We can communicate with our car lights. Flashing your headlights can mean 'you first' or 'thank you' (only unofficially, though. The only legal use is to let someone know of your presence, so if, by moving forward, you end up in a collision with the person who flashed you, according to the law, you are to blame!). You can give a couple of flashes of your hazard lights to say 'thank you' or 'sorry'. What I want to know is, how do you tell someone to go f#%k themselves?!
You've heard of Tennis Elbow. You've heard of Housemaid's Knee. Well, since the weather has warmed up again, I have developed Bus Driver Thumb. This condition is caused by repeatedly giving the thumbs-up instead of flashing my hazards, to thank drivers who let me in to the traffic flow.
Yesterday, or at least what passed us such at the time of writing, was another eventful day. I was pulling away from the Southgate Asda bus stop, heading towards Finchley. It is just after a roundabout, from which, a car emerged during my manoeuvre. The driver seemed to think that I should stop and let him go, and expressed his anger that I did not. I too expressed my anger at his cheek, with a two-finger salute out of my window. At the next bus stop, he pulled alongside my bus, jumped out of his car, and proceeded to hurl blue clouds of abuse in my direction and punch the bus windows. He pointed to his kids in the car, as a reason why I should have let him in front of me. Great role model for them, wouldn't you agree? Are there holes in his argument? I had 30 passengers. He was driving recklessly, with or without kids. The law states, buses have the right of way. I have a busmen's key - a Cast Iron 'T', which, as a last resort, could do life-altering damage to potential attackers! I apologised to my passengers, who in turn commiserated with me. An elderly woman told me that a week ago, in similar circumstances, she saw someone shoot at a bus driver!
Earlier, while doing some overtime on the 34 route, I was driving along the A406, towards Walthamstow with a full bus. A van driver pulled directly in my path, causing me to brake and swerve sharply enough that an elderly man fell off his seat! I felt awful, but again, the passengers found me blameless. From the other driver, no remorse, of course.
There was an amusing moment. While waiting at the traffic light at Whetstone, Finchley-bound, a man spoke to me. In broad accent: I am sorry! I am French! I understand it might be necessary to apologise for this in parts of America, but not here. Macdonalds still call their fries French Fries here. In America, they have been renamed Freedom Fries!!!!! And here was me thinking that we Brits are xenophobic and proudly ignorant!
Anyway! I correctly guessed that he was apologising for his poor English, and that he wanted to get off the bus. I told him with a smile, that I would have let him off, even if he weren't French!
On a personal note, I went to see a flat. I was expecting a studio, but it had 2 bedrooms. Nice enough. BUT! It is situated at the corner of Green Lanes and The North Circular Road (A406) - heavy traffic almost all day. Very noisy. Terribly polluted air. I could never open my window! That most raids on suspected terrorists seem to be either in the direct vicinity or within a mile or so of there is not entirely negative, as it the last place likely to be the target of a gas attack! The following day, a controller from Palmers Green Bus Garage, who was standing at the opposite corner, pointed to the house next door: You see that kicked in door over there? A serious drug addict lives there. Bothers all the local shops - a real nuisance. No wonder it was cheap! I'm still looking!
That's all for now.
Love,
Andy
About the Author
My name is Andy. I am an Englishman who has spent most of his adult life in the United States. In 2001, I moved back to London, thinking I would remain there for the rest of my life. But things didn't go as planned. And instead of finding a job in IT, I became a bus driver. This is my memoire, written from 2003 to 2005.
Now back in Brooklyn, I have a blog I currently enjoy writing: sceneandheardinny.blogspot.com
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