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Funny Quote Of the Day

Freezing cold temps- Bicyclist gets on my bus.

"You know how you spell bicyclist in winter? Just drop the B. Since I was driving it took me a moment. Icyclist as in Ice, HA! I get it.."

 And now on with todays adventure. 

         It goes without saying that sometimes we are all not at our best. I know that I try to be happy and friendly on the bus, but there are days I can’t be for whatever reasons. Days I phone it in or worse days I’m pissy. When you are having a pissy day it sometimes seems that everyone who gets on your buss has you square in the sights of the hate gun.

         As a bus driver you also see it in others, rides who regularly greet you as if you are the savior of the world only one day when you pick them up they snub you like Harvard grad talking to a McDonalds employee. You know it’s not personal when someone is not at there best when he or she is not themselves.

         We all have times and places when we are not at are best. For me it’s any time I have to see a vampire-based movie…again. It’s easy to judge someone badly if they are not at their best. It’s also a painful thing when you are not at your best and people judge you like saying, “I will never take him to a movie again” Sometimes we are not who we want to be, sometimes we have no clue who we are.

         For me yesterday started bad because it started early. I was  at my Parents house having spent the night because the day before my car had broken down and they are only a few blocks from the mechanics. That’s right the Buick LeSaber Ltd of love broke down. I will spare you the story of misery, the story of a morning shot to hell, expensive tow service, followed by a tsk tsking mechanic Emil and plenty of smoke and fumes.

The only reason the LeSaber of love is still running is due to the diligence of Emil the best mechanic in Portland. He is what I call “my Mechanic” The kind of Mechanic that gives you a ride home when you drop off your car for the sixth time in a year.

         When I said that sometimes we are people we don’t even know. I was shocked to find out that I was a guy who had a mechanic. Not just calling around to find a lowest price. I was a guy who said “Take it to my mechanic He’s the best”

         That’s the kind of guy I am and I never knew that. Yet Emil is my Mechanic.

         Now as a bus driver sometimes people do things, I wouldn’t call them odd, I think I would borrow some terminology form fighter pilots jargon and say their actions are out of the envelope.

My favorite out of envelope person  is the one who gets on and only rides a few stops. This is not strange or bad but what is funny is that every single one of them feels the need to explain themselves. “I hurt my leg, it’s too cold, it’s up hill, Dog eat my homework” no.. wait that last one if from me in high school.     

         So I had just started my run. I’m lucky enough to be that driver who is heading into town during the rush hour, the best! Snag me some colleges kids form Japan and one older woman with a small shopping bag that had a little hard time getting on even with the bus lowered.

         I make it a rule to let people who look like they are having problems getting onboard take a seat before I roll. Sometime you just have to wait but this lady decided that she wanted to stand and though she moved poorly she had a double-handed death grip on the bars and looked stable as a rock.

         I called out “I’m rolling” a comment that I sometimes take a ribbing for from passengers and fellow bus drivers who know me and like to mimic me or echo my announcement. She said nothing so away I rolled away slowly.

         That morning I was not rolling anyplace. I got a ride from my Dad to the mechanic and when I went in I knew it was bad when Emil offered me tea. 

         “I think it’s time you wake up my friend, Transmission and..” he went on to list the other things that had turned my 94 Champaign colored four door LeSaber of love into what scientist would call A-Piece-O- Sh$%. Freaking scientist!   

         This did not make me mad or sad or upset. As he showed me the damages that a transmission gone crazy can do and the cost of parts labor I realized again I was not who I thought I was. I was “rock calm guy” I was “easy going guy” It’s not that it was a surprise, The Buick of Love had many visits with the ER room of late and each time it was getting more and more expensive and the time between visits getting less and less. What been 2 years between visits, had gone to one, then to see you next month and then well… many.

          Now on my bus latter that day I was “Take it easy Driver” that driver I know it’s me. I only half joke that my nickname is “El Tortuga” the turtle. But due to wonderful removal of 2 oz. of my body I will never miss, my tonsils, I’m a little rusty so  I’m “Taking it easy driver” Just to be safe with only seven days until I get my 3 year safe driving pin I trying to be as careful as I can be.

         I dropped off the Japanese students who all thanked me and I waited at an intersection. Needless to say driving a bus is not like driving a car. In my car (my now dead Car) I think nothing of going through intersections but in a bus each intersection is a risk. Because of the high trimet driving standards even if another driver is running a red light you could be at fault if you did not take every precaution to avoid it.

          For me I have been paying particular attention at intersections and since I had to turn it is a 100% focus job. Cars, People and bikes sometimes seem like they want under my moving bus and will do anything they can to get there. This was not the case yesterday but you have to pay attention as if it was. Unlike many jobs out there driving a bus is at its very core a life or death profession in that every drivers actions can cause harm and death to people around and in the bus. It’s no time to daydream, trainer Pete told me three years ago, thanks Pete.

         Clear of the intersection I rolled on but next block proved even more dangerous something that again attracted 100% of my attention and bus driver skills. I call it the “kids playing in the street syndrome” or KPITSS. When it’s cold and kids are all bundled up they often don’t see or hear well and many of them are dressed in dark colors. I could not get a count of them and this is where you really have to be careful.

         For me that morning careful was sitting down and accepting some Tea from my mechanic. I started to go over the option in my head. Should I even get a car? Could I walk to work every day? In a perfect world yes, but in the dead of winter sometimes you have to make it to work in harsh conditions and I have to make it when times are really bad. You know when they say on TV and Radio only necessary people should be on the roads, bus drivers count as necessary.

         Last year in Portland’s worse snows and freezing in 30 years I found out that I was not who I thought I was. I was “show up and work freaking long hours and sleep on the floor guy.” Didn’t know that was me before. Now though I needed to get a car. I could not leave to chance getting to work.

Besides, a Champaign Buick LeSaber…Come on!

 I’m not 70 with pants that buckle just bellow my armpits.

 I’m not a mac daddy wannabe who thinks his Buick is big pimp’n.

 Why the hell am I driving a medicade sled?

Why am I driving the car that has the same effect on dates as showing up wrapped in suit made from the collected locks of hair from past girlfriends each with a story.

I have some money now as a full time bus driver.

I can do better.

I CAN.

If Obama taught me anything it’s I CAN and I was going to put it into practice.

         Emil pointed out some used cars he had laying around and said “take a look I will do you a deal” Now even if he wasn’t going to do me a deal I really didn’t care. He has helped me out of more jams cheaper then anyone I could find and I figured even paying a little more then I should I was still miles ahead.  I didn’t know I was that guy, “Good Karma Guy” that was me? Really! Emil over the years and had earned great karma so I started looking at the used cars.   

         Imagine my elation to be free of the grandpa car. I now had  options, I could get that small pickup I wanted so  I could go camping. Going camping in the Buick of love always devolved into a version of car packing Tetris. how cool would that be? Maybe something with GULP! Four wheel drive for the snows. Oh man I would no longer get people looking at me in shock when got out of the OLD Dad’s car. Yes welcome to the 21^st century Mr. Christensen a new world awaits you.

 “YOU MISSED MY STOP!” 

screaming at a bus driver sometimes does not have the effect you think. For me it causes what I call fixed driving. I start slowing, check my mirrors, glance back trying to figure out one thing at a time not everything that is going on. It was the older woman with the bags standing beside me. The last thing you do is jamming the breaks when they scream.

“Don’t you know how to Fu$&ing  do your job”

“I’m sorry,” Let me get you to the curb.” I said.

“How long have you been a driver,” she asked in a Huff. “You are still driving! let me out!”

“I didn’t hear you ring the bell,” I said, “here is a spot I can get you to the curb.” I began to pull over.

“I didn’t ring the bell I told you when you let those kids off.” She yelled.        

Here is the truth, She could have. With the vents and fans blowing I vaguely remember four blocks back she said something. Then I had driven through the 100% focus intersection and half a block of kids darting in and out of traffic and parked cars again 100% focus.  This causes what I like to call short-term memory erase. Remembering you want a stop when I may not have heard it after going through what looked like a drivers ed film of horrible things “You will run into” while driving a bus… Hmm Stop? What stop? the idea of your stop was pushed farther and farther back until in this case it was gone like the words to the Bonanza theme song. “something something something something something Bonanza!”

Now they don’t make erasers in size 40’ bus. There is no backspace key for a bus driver. I know I have said that before but in people’s minds that fact is not always clear.

 She yells at me all the way to the curb and I open the door. “Now I have to walk back” she yelled. She shuffled off the bus and I was done saying I was sorry. I looked her over and she was dressed nice, like she was going to a charismas party. That shopping bag had presents stuffed in it and she was all done up.

 She was not a bad person. She was going to a place of love maybe with friends maybe family could be both. She was going there to celebrate the Christmas season she was not a monster she was loved and a loving person who just reacted badly.

 “What’s your name,” she said spinning on me. I told her and my bus number and who to call. I have leaned not to fear these sorts of threats. I make it easy for people to call in on me. Most don’t anyway.

So there I was looking at the cars like greedy pig looking over Christmas dinner. I could have a newer Volkswagen in great shape or the small little four wheels drive Ford. All the cars looked good to me to be honest. Well compared to the Buick what can I say.

But nothing was tickling my fancy until  I saw it…

Oh yes it was love at first sight.

That’s when I realized what kind of man I am. That I was not who I thought I was, that I was indeed “not myself.”

Now when they say love at first sight they are talking about me in that lot yesterday morning. look it up in the dictionary and you will see my pic wide eyed and smiling. No more MR. Champaign Buick LeSaber LTD. Oh no, I could put those day behind me like memories of climbing the rope in gym, every fat boys nightmare.

Here was the new me personified in a four wheel rolling sexy machine and it was going to be mine, oh yes it was all mine.

The Supercharged Buick Park Ave Ultra in Champaign… Lower, sleeker, Leather, heater that works, new tires and I was in love. Sure it had collected more then it’s share of road dirt being next to the intersection of SE Division and 148^th. From over head it had been pooped on by every pigeon in a tricounty area but under that layer of dust and bird droppings was a dead sexy step up in the world of cars, a step that will announce to the world, I have arrived.

That is when I realized I, Dan Christensen was “a Buick Man” Ladies beware once you go Buick Man…

Latter that night I was returning to the end of my three-hour round trip and coming back into the neighborhood where I had started my day. It was darker and colder but my bus heat was at full blast and being nearly empty, by that I mean not making many stops it was downright tropical in there.

I saw ahead of men a man in the street between stops waving with a level of desperation that one uses when they are warning about the bridge being out so I slowed down. There were other people coming out of a house and my first thought was some sort of emergency. So I stopped.

Opening the door, the guy said “Hold on” Then backed away towards the house. Hold on? I’m a bus on a schedule I thought. Then decided to wait, what the heck, even with the door open I was in the pacific islands when it came to heat so what’s the hurry.

 At my door appeared the woman who had yelled at me with a few family members in tow. I braced for a real bitching out and maybe even some threats. I was half figuring on slamming the door and rolling on. Nothing was going to harsh the high that is the right of each and everyone in the Buick Park Avenue Ultra Club.

 “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she said. “My pasture,” a man standing behind her waved. “Said that for this Christmas we have to make right something in our lives. We have to ask to be forgiven and we have to forgive someone who has wrong us. “ I yelled at you and you were just worried about those kids.”

I could see in the house behind her children in the doorways and windows. For all I know they may have been the same children, for poetic justice I would like to assume they were.

Then she said the words I recognized all so well “I was not myself.”

“That,” I assured her. “I can defiantly understand”

“Sometimes you have to do what’s right,” she said and there were nods and Amen’s form those behind her.

“Thank you.” I said. “Thank you for saying that.”

The man who waved me down and come to think of it he did look much like the older woman, stepped in and gave me a present of cookies all wrapped up in paper. “Here you go man,” he said and we shook hands. “You have a great Christmas.”

Of all the things in the last three years of driving this was one of the most touching. On this day both my passenger and I found out that we were not the people we thought we were, we were not even who we wanted to be.

She, for a moment was “yelling irrational person”

For myself I was  “a Buick Man.” Unlike her I can’t apologies for being a Buick man. I would feel bad, but hey, I’m the guy in the Park Avenue Ultra so hey move over Grandpa car coming through.

Have a good Christmas season life can be good.