Bob the Bus Driver

The kids’ school bus driver is named Bob. 

Bob is a retired cop from New York City.  He has some great stories, which he only tells to kids who would appreciate them.

No one f*cks with Bob.  Seriously.   No one acts up on Bob’s bus.  He doesn’t yell.  He is just Bob.

If Bob arrives at your stop in the morning, and you’re not quite there, if you hustle he’ll wait for you.  If not, he’ll leave.  Even if he sees you coming.  If you don’t break at least a trot, he will drive away.

The bus stop at the end of our road is on a busy east-west thoroughfare along a stretch with blind curves coming and going.  Over the years there have been some pretty close calls as people have come barreling along a little too fast, in their 6.30 a.m. fug, and encountered a stopped school bus. 

My personal favorite involved black ice and a loaded dump truck laying about sixty feet of rubber while the car behind the dump truck did a 180.  I wasn’t sure exactly what message Bob conveyed to the truck driver – it was tough to lip-read from across the street, through the bus window and all the smoke – but I was very glad I wasn’t on the receiving end of it. 

Yesterday morning when Bob stopped for the kids, the car following the bus pulled way over onto the shoulder and up alongside the bus, like it was going to pass on the right, before it finally stopped.

Bob actually got off the bus to face down the driver.  I think if I’d been the driver I would have wet my pants.

Bob is awesome.

The kids are in good hands.