Bus Riding

I waved at Paul as he stepped onto the bus. I have taken to riding it every night, even though I don’t have anywhere to go. It’s a cheap diversion and I get to meet a lot of interesting people, especially now that it’s almost midnight.

“Hey Paul, how’s Baby?” I asked. An uninformed listener might think that I was talking about a small child or a lover. People who knew Paul however knew that Baby was a large blue semi he drove for the local lumber company. Paul doesn’t have a family so the semi has become his family, as can be told by the way that he has affectionately named it. Before I met Paul I had never realized that it was possible to spoil a truck, but I think it is. If there is such a thing I think Baby qualifies.

Like I said, I only ride the bus for fun, but I’m the only one. At first there was a whole group of us would who would meet and ride at night, just to see what sort of people we would meet. People are always more willing to talk while sitting on a bus because they are cramped together with you and you have to sit together. Total and utter strangers would never look at one another if they passed on the street, will strike up conversations. After a while the others grew bored with this form of entertainment, or moved, and only I remain, a hold over from a disbanded club. The others really lost interest when the old bus was scrapped and they got this new, official one. It just isn’t the same; even I have to admit that, the old run down bus had personality. This may seem sad, but I don’t actually mind. You see, I have made friends with the other regulars that ride the bus at night, though they all have reasons to ride, unlike me. They think I’m strange but they agree that so are they for the most part, and therefore they accept me.

I stopped recording these night expeditions after the club broke up, but mostly out of nostalgia, here I am, pen in hand once in more. I was always the secretary after all and even though there is no longer a club to write for, I find myself wanting to write for myself at least this once.

Paul sat down next to me, thus determining who I would probably be talking to, at least for a while. It is possible to talk with people sitting in other seats, but it is usually a little more difficult and you will quickly lose your voice from shouting over the bus’s engine. Besides I get a crick in my neck when I twist to talk to people behind me and I always sit right behind the driver. It isn’t even the same driver it was back in the day, which is depressing sometimes, sometimes I turn to talk to Bill only to remember that he no longer sit in the driver’s seat. I guess I really am set in my ways.

“Have you seen Annie the last couple of days?” I asked Paul. Annie is another woman who rides the bus sometimes. I’m not actually sure what her job, but I did know that she gets picked up in front of the firing range most of the time. Whether she works there or just goes there to fire a gun is outside of my knowledge and I have never actually asked.

“Not for a while, haven’t heard about her either though, which means that nothing bad has happened to her. You know how it is, bad things happen to someone and it’s all over the city.”

To be continued...