Ricoh Bus

[Tytn]

The bus left the ancient hospital grounds on time, and traffic was light working the bus around the tight Victorian buildings, cars parked inappropriately but we were all used to it. There were ‘lines’ to follow, in our heads, thoughts on where to place the front of the vehicle to ease it through gaps, when to turn, where to look to follow it through, how close you could get to that badly parked car and still get through.

Out at the junction, quiet and I didn’t have to head the wrong way on the route just to turn at the roundabout to come back. When it was really busy it was the only option to get out of that junction! But traffic was light, and there weren't many passengers on board. Down to the traffic lights and then across into the seldom used estate and back out the other side. Near the supermarket, a new large one, I spotted the signal, movement from a bus shelter as I pulled out of the roundabout and whilst scanning the traffic. I almost slipped into auto pilot. Off on the power, mirrors, blind spots, indicator, mirrors, gently on the brake, and eased into the bus stop layby. Enough to get one and a half buses in, as as you know, all of us like having our arses stuck out into traffic. I passed the shelter and stopped at the end of the platform area and swung the doors open with a crash. It was almost as if they needed adjusting but it was something to wake the passengers and I up and the fact I was stopped.

Two lads sauntered on, late teens, dressed for a day pratting around in the city, as was expected. One held an open can in front, the other had a bulge in their jacket where a similar can resided, they presented their passes, but I shook my head
“No you don’t lads, sorry”
“What? Why? This pass is valid”
“You know damn well it’s not that. No open drinks and it’s obvious you’re about to drink that other one in your pocket upstairs. This is a clean bus and it’s serving the hospital and the new estate, so you can’t leave your rubbish on the bus or spill any of it”
“I wasn’t… I…” started one
“You can finish that can off here and now”
“But I’ve just opened it”
“Or you can wait for the next bus, it’ll be about half an hour!”
“Sod that”
“And you, young sir, can leave that can down here. Stick it through here and you can have it when you leave”
“No bloody chance, you’ll have it”
“Get real, I don’t even like the stuff, and I can’t drink and drive remember”
“It’s not alcohol, it's an energy drink”
“Doesn’t matter, you both can get off and wait for the next bus then you’ll have finished these cans”
“No mate, I’ve gotta get back, the footie's on, C’mon!”
“Only if you finish that can” he stared at it, half a litre of energy drink
“And if you don’t want to hand that can over, you can bin it or drink it now” his eyes bulged
“You’re having a laugh!”
“Nope, company rules. It’s not shopping, I know your type, you’ll just drink it anyway and prat around upstairs, so you either drink it now, hand it over until you get off or wait for the next bus”
“Fine!” cried the lad, and one started to pour it back down his throat. He seemed to bypass the mouth as it had a slightly strong taste and just poured it in. Halfway through he stopped and looked a little odd, then let out a few long burps and steadied himself on the handlebars. The other lad cracked open the can and started a similar downing. In the mirror I saw an older gentleman at the back of the bus get up and walk upstairs, he paused briefly to establish eye contact through the mirror and I gave him a small smile. We’d been chatting at the hospital about, among things, his inner workings and old age and of when he use to work in a factory, looking after apprentices and the like.

These two lads slowly finished the cans, the last bits taking longer with more burps then finally finished and crushed the cans
“Bin, outside” I offered, and pointed. One lad took both half litre empties and binned them then waddled onto the bus, still burping and gasping. They carefully climbed the stairs and sat at the front, opposite the old guy. I waited for them to be seated before easing back into traffic to continue the route. I wasn’t sure where they were getting off, but the footie was the other end of the route.

They could have taken a direct bus to the city centre, the bus station and then caught another one direct to the ground and that would have taken them 90 minutes with a loo stop in the middle for the 20 minute changeover. This run was over 2 hours and we would literally be going ‘around the houses’. It serviced 4 large housing estates, the interlocking roads, 2 major supermarkets and the allotments then the city. A short stop there and on to another few housing estates, some straight roads and onto a restrictive dual carriageway before entering another supermarket that backed onto the football stadium, and that was due to start in nearly 3 hours.

They may have been strong and fearsome, with arm muscles and strength to lift 50-70kg of weight each but at their age I was pretty sure that they hadn't exercised that one important muscle that was needed more in the work environment than they had either considered or nurtured.

I was over a decade older, had had that time to nurture and craft my capacity, to learn what could and couldn’t be held over what length of time. As one that spent a large amount of time behind the steering wheel I knew drink sizes, capacities, capabilities and effects the different types would have. I also knew that a small 160ml energy drink would keep me going for another 90 minutes of tiredness with the final 30 minutes being a reminder in my bladder with my kidneys having processed the waste liquid into my bladder. I could manage that.

For those younger that had had most whims responded too, requests for suitable breaks honoured and in some mild cases they were encouraged to wait, even in college they would have had a fair bit of leeway and self-responsibility. Couple this with not really thinking about it that much I was sure that when they finished off over 3 times what I would try plus the much longer wait meant I would have quite a show later.

Thankfully I was on this bus to the end and I’d already been to the loo before I left the old hospital and had been advised of the heavy football traffic at the end of the route with repeated dire restrictions from those drivers letting their passengers off early for the football in dangerous areas.




Despite what everyone thinks, it can be quite complicated driving a bus. Some routes are easy and others aren't but whatever you’re doing you still need to pay attention, checking mirrors, making sure where you passengers are in the vehicle is a prime consideration to any manoeuvre you do too. Pulling out into traffic, for example, you’d need to make sure they’re sitting down or holding on, as the power needed to put down to pull out will do the obvious thing and push people in the other direction. Basic physics right? Get it wrong or too rough and they’ll get hurt or at the very least annoyed and such things lead to complaints.

Then you need to deal with the other traffic on the roads. The car drivers that wont let busses out because they think they’re slow even though we try and get up to speed as soon and as safely as possible. Cars that will pull out in front of you but then not accelerate causing us to slow, to stop or, if they do it at the last minute, swerve. That’s never a good thing either. It also takes a fair bit of noise and power to bring it back up to speed, a large throbbing diesel hooked up to an automatic gearbox. Smooth for the passengers but uses up quite a bit of power to keep it smooth.

Because of the state of most roads it can be quite bumpy. If you know the route you could probably manoeuvre around pot holes, but that isn't always the case when you are driving a 30 foot long bus. The front wheels could clear it but then the back wouldn’t, or worse, hit something worse.

Planning your driving, where you want to put the vehicle, how it will affect the other traffic. When you are turning, how to line it up and also to make sure the rear wheels don’t strike the kerb. The front doesn’t get too close to something else in front and then, having made the turn, whether you can pass those badly parked cars safely or have to wait for the traffic to pass, which has now incidentally blocked your escape route and your means of passing. My trainer had once told me Kerbs are like animals, you can brush up against them but you can't mount them. He specified a particular animal but only because I was from Wales and he had a sense of humour!

It all mounts up. Some routes are easier than others. There is a fair bit to think about so those two teens were on their own, I wasn’t actively thinking about them, I was concentrating on my job.

Bus stops, traffic calming, traffic lights, passive signs, vehicle power and speed vs the car that has just seen you pull out and will speed up just so they can slam their brakes on to make it look like it's your fault.

Housing estate after housing estate, people doing silly things in roads, on the pavements, pretending to leap in front of vehicles. People who don’t think the bus will stop so stand in the middle of the road then bang the windscreen when the doors are slow to open close. Pensioners who moan the air-assisted floor hasn’t been lowered when the entire bus has just heard the front suspension dump all its air to accommodate.

The arguments from parents with push chairs. Buses usually take 2 unfolded pushchairs and others folded. Except if it is a wheel chair then the aforementioned pushchairs either need to be moved, folded or the wheelchair user has to wait for the next service. I do recall one time a manager who suggested we tell the passengers who had already paid to get off with their pushchairs to let a wheelchair on. Most drivers disagreed with this, as parents with filled nappies from their very young children are a potent weapon and leave quite disgusting remains. After the manager came on a bus to ‘work his idea’ we chose the one with the most wheelchairs on and the idea sank without a trace when he tried to insist. He also found out why were reminded to stay in the cabs behind a protective screen!

Then finally with standing passengers, some pushing past to get off or on, others standing when there were probably seats upstairs and you would think, being younger than the driver would mean they could cope with stairs. But no, they prefer to stand downstairs. Perhaps done just to make the drivers job harder. Passengers wanting to use particular stops that we had been forbidden from doing so for whatever reason. All this to contend with, plus traffic as mentioned above, tight roads where you’d need to plan where the back end of the bus was going to swing BEFORE you reached that point and if you could actually pull out of that roundabout without disrupting someone for their 4 seconds of time…

The first leg, when I pulled into the bus station was actually on time, I was surprised to find. Dropped the suspension, disgorged the passengers and engine off as the bus grew progressively lighter. Then it resumed the other way. The ticket machine beeped, flashed and spluttered out tickets, the rattle of coins and banging of the money shute. Then silence. Well, not entirely. There are people behind talking, whispering or just making other noises. The high pitch whine from people earphones, the noise of people moving around upstairs. Not to mention the roar of buses leaving the bus station, the whine and squeal of brakes as they rolled into their stops. The hissing and groaning of suspension and occasional horns and shouting as potential passengers ran out in front of buses, causing them to brake hard whilst trying to board it after it has left the stand. The screaming abuse from said passengers not understanding that the bus has probably been instructed to leave whilst another is sliding in behind it, making them look stupid. Well, actually, we as bus drivers didn’t need much help in that, not when there is a bus ever x minutes!

There was a banging on the stairs, and one of the youths came down. He looked a bit flustered
“Hey mate, when you going?” he seemed tense, and I remembered why.
“Two minutes” I replied “half past on the ticket machine” I indicated, a look came in his eyes
“Can I just pop to the loo’s” he hissed
“Sure, I’ll try and wait for you, but if you take too long…”
“Thanks” and he hurried off, hit the metal door open plate on the wall of the bus station and sprinted off down the corridor. I didn’t think he’d have a problem. He’d soon discover the toilets were actually closed because of vandalism. Youths of a similar age decided that the 10p a person charge was an affront to their age and superiority and as such they should be exempt from paying and kicked and trashed it until it broke. At which point it spilled out money, police arrived and the bars had been driven into the doorway and thus unable to open and close it properly.

People walking past could see those standing at the urinal, which was A Bad Thing, and they were closed. Drivers had loos, they weren't the best but any port in a storm! There was also no way I’d hand over the code.

He was back before even his two minutes were up and looked a tad more tense. He glanced over and we made eye contact but he didn’t say anything and just went upstairs, but he was certainly walking slower. Still, only another half an hour to an hour to go, depending on traffic. I wasn’t going to tell him. I would probably ask the old man upstairs when we stopped at the superstore!

[Fred]

The bus driver is entitled to a little fun, isn't he?

[BottleBlaze]

Oooh yes! Some good ol fun

What a lovely story, looking forward to reading more

[Wombat48]

Great story

[cutsleeve]

looks like a really good story building up.

[Tytn]

The other lad sauntered downstairs
“Hey drive” he called out “Any chance of the code to the drivers loo?”
“What?”
“The drivers loo, my mate needs to go and the main ones are shut”
“I don’t have a code…”
“but…”
“The code changed because the water supply was vandalised when the public toilets were damaged and as we have a depot not far away it was decided we could go over there only”
“Really?” he sounded incredulous
“Yeah” I sighed in a resigned way
“That’s a load of bull”
“Yeah, that’s what managers are for. You can always get off and goto the burger bar in town or something?”
“Nah, we’ve gotta get out there; it’s only half an hour isn’t it”
“Yeah, 30 minutes and 15 stops assuming no delays”
“Thanks drive” and the lad sauntered upstairs.

Through the periscope I could see them together and their legs were closed too, but they seemed more still than they had been earlier. But it was time to depart, so with engine fired up, a final check done and doors closed we pulled off the stand.

The route was one of the easier ones. The more complicated ones did actually link with this route, cross it and even branch off and do a few loops but this was nice and straightforward.

We hit traffic as soon as we reached one of the main feed routes between the outer edge of the city and the inner ring road. Always busy but we were only on it for 5 minutes; according to the schedule. We had a couple of pushchairs to take on and they never seemed to have their passes out or money. They got on and were rooting around in their handbags for these passes and still nattering to erach other. I just waited patiently. In the past there was a woman who got on, fumbled around, said she’d find it and I could let her sit down and she’d bring it up to show me. Within 3 stops there was a revenue stop and the police took her off for not having a pass. I explained what had happened to the revenue officer who told me I was in the wrong so now wait. There have since been a few more that I have ‘waited for’ only for them to decide to get off to find it than delay me and there are a few faces I recognise from the routes and a few that use dodgy passes or invalid passes for rush hour.

Over the canal and around the small bus route, then onto clear road. Able to reach 25mph finally before having to slow down for a crossing, then traffic for an industrial estate and finally another bus stop. Needless to say I was at minute 20 when I’d only done 9 stops and finally when we pulled onto the road leading to the dual carriageway it was at minute 40. The final stop on this road could have had the lads getting off as it would then be a 5 minute walk under the railway line, then over an foot overpass to get to the stadium. By bus they’d be dropped off by the main pedestrian entrance and would have saved 2 minute of walking.

I drove under the railway arch, small enough that it was for vehicles only and then sat for 5 minutes before the traffic had eased enough to squeeze the 40ft bus out across the yellow box junction and into the middle lane of the slip road to the roundabout. Traffic was almost gridlocked.

The police and traffic management had taken control of the traffic lights for strategic control meaning that they were letting long waves through to clear sections.

20 minutes late now and we were out on the roundabout. I heard the stairs then one of the lads, the one who had got off. He was at the side window and glanced around nervously
“We’re late”
“Yeah, traffic is the problem”
“Can we get off here?”
“No, is the simple answer. We’re in the middle of the roundabout”
“Please! The stadium is just there!” he hissed, he sounded exasperated, quite tense.
“Yeah, and this is the road. You can’t get off here, I’d be arrested” he seemed to think about it
“We won’t tell” he gasped, squirming a little, legs together in an odd stance I didn’t think about initially.
“You don’t need to. CCTV and a heavy police presence you dolt”, he winced and slipped off slowly, climbing the stairs carefully. Next I heard the other lad come hurrying down. He too wore the gaze of tense and pain but I said the same thing. He tried to go for the emergency door controls but I was in a Volvo B7, one of the older ones. Helpful tips from other drivers meant I knew that if I held down the door close button it would prevent the air pressure from reaching the door buttons for him to open them, and he failed. He turned back, grimacing and returned upstairs. A glance did reveal his belt had been released one notch from its usual well worn position. They had light coloured jeans on I recalled.

Upstairs they walked up and down the bus, and the stairs a few times before ending up downstairs. Both now. One perched on a chair and looked stressed and worried. The other walked up and down the aisle, swinging their legs, and grimacing. They made quite a few grabs and squeezes of their crotches, and winced too. Legs waggled and they chatted in short words as they moaned softly to each other.

The older one came ahead again and before he even got there I called out 'I can't stop, I can't let you out, you'll just have to wait' and the lad retreated.

[Sam70]

Tytn,

You must be competing for first place at keeping us keeping us totally in suspense of what will happen next. On second thought, we know what is going to happen next or real soon. We just don't know where it will be happening and whether the tools will be leaking inside the 'box' or whether the tools will be leaking outside the "box!" Perhaps it won't be the same for both lads.

Again, you write with such vivid dialogue. I am a bit jealous.

[Tytn]

A lot of these stories are 'old'. Some going back to events that happened over a decade ago! However. Getting the next chapter for this story may be a bit complicated, as I've not actually written the ending.

I remember what happened, but its putting it into suffiencient words to convey the moment too you. I like writing at times. Maybe next week as I've got some time off work.

[Lee]

I’m disappointed that the conclusion will be what actually happened rather than the ending I’d have hoped for. After all, that’d be fantasy, wouldn’t it?!

[Sam70]

I’m disappointed that the conclusion will be what actually happened rather than the ending I’d have hoped for. After all, that’d be fantasy, wouldn’t it?!

I did not realize that this is a true story. Only Tytn really knows the details of what is going to happen. At this point, the chances of these two lads getting off the bus in dry pants is not looking very good.

If one or both of them piss their pants, I hope Tytn can really write a good accounting of it. But then Tytn can write a good accounting of it if they are both dry when getting off the bus.

As we know from other true stories, the fact is that these lads might still be dry when they exit the bus, but that may not mean that much. These two lads still have a journey to get to the toilets. By the time the lads get to a urinal, one or both of the lads may have already had an accident in their light colored trousers that will show the wetness from what will seem like to them miles away from them.

Who knows Lee. You might really like how this really ends!