Bus

I was generally pretty lucky when it came to my work schedule at Mal-Wart. Rarely did I ever have to work the night shift where all the loonies come out to prey upon innocent souls – most of the time I was working nine in the morning to six at night, and even though it was super long and super boring, I made enough cheddar to survive. Now did that mean I was anywhere near happy? Hell no. Although, when have I ever been truly happy in my life?

Never mind.

So for ten years I’d toiled over the cash register with a soul-sucking nametag pinned to my chest (my right boob, to be exact) and I was never really that happy with it. I mean at least being a bus driver doesn’t require you to fake a smile while truly dying on the inside…my boss there had always told me that I had an attitude problem when customers weren’t there and that if I wasn’t careful, it’d carry over into my work. I didn’t really care. It was just another job to me and I was already determined that it wouldn’t be the only job in my lifetime. Someday, something better would come along and save me from the doldrums. I didn’t know what that “something” was yet.

Well, a few months before I turned twenty-eight, I thought I had found my calling. All my life I’ve loved to drive. Call it weird, but I call it somewhat of a hobby – like me taking apart engines as a kid and trying to figure out how the hell they worked. But this “calling,” though a bit odd and gave me second thoughts, struck me at first. It was an ad in the classified section of the newspaper. I had only glanced at it to see what kind of other potential options I had, and immediately, something hit me.



I mean, I hadn’t set foot in a school bus since I was in school. I’d never driven one before. The year was 2007 and a far cry from the days of 1995 when I was in the midst of my teen years, and I didn’t really stop to think at that moment how far I could’ve been from the youth of today. Nope. Didn’t flicker through my head, the dumbass I am.

I considered the job. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d get it right away – bus drivers couldn’t be that hard to find for a county – but in my messed up state of mind, anything was better than a stupid Mal-Wart cashier job.

So I kind of took a plunge. I signed up for night classes at the Yuma Truck Driving School that showed me how to actually drive a giant-ass vehicle like a school bus. The classes weren’t much of a hassle. They started at seven at night and since I normally got off work an hour before then, I could just drive right on over and learn a little bit each night.

It was basically that crap you learn in high school if you take driver’s ed. How to use a gas pedal, how to fix your mirrors, how to use the steering wheel – that dumb crap that one should already know if they have their driver’s license. And what really got me were some of the dumbasses that I was forced to be stuck in a room with. I swear to God…

There was this stupid lady who sat in front of me who, whenever the teacher finished his sentence, would raise her hand and ask him to explain it again. She had to be at least twice my age. It beat the bananas outta me why she was taking these classes. And then there was this smartass hillbilly who kept trying to correct the teacher but he ended up being wrong half the time. Not a very pleasant bunch of people.

I already knew a thing or two about driving, knowing how I’ve never been in an accident since I’ve been behind the wheel. So basically the only things I had to learn were CPR basics and the rules of a school bus, and even then, those were easy. You know those dummies they always show on TV where you have to learn how to make somebody conscious again on? Yeah. I had to use one of those. It sure as hell wasn’t fun, but it got me my CDL.

I passed the driver’s test with flying colors, having absorbed the information way better than any of my peers, most likely due to my already-extensive knowledge of road rules and basic driving shit.

I doubted that I’d ever have to use any of the crap that they taught me, since I still had a little bit of faith in humanity at that point. I didn’t think there’d be any junior high pricks getting knocked unconscious, calling upon me to save their sorry asses. (And I’m kinda counting my blessings right now since I never have had to use that mouth-to-mouth resuscitation they told us about. But I have had to punch a few chests to wake ‘em up.)

Even still, though, I have that knowledge that those courses taught me locked in my head. I know exactly what to do in an emergency and every year it’s refreshed for me in July when they put us through that refresher course right before school starts up again. I’m probably the best bus driver in Yuma, and if not that, I’m probably the smartest.

And you’re probably thinking about how much of an ass I sound like because of that last sentence, but if you had to drive buses alongside some of the people I have to work with, you’d know where I’m coming from. No offense to Ronnie or Anita or Sharon or anything. Sometimes decent people aren’t always “smart.”

Anyways, the last part of the test for the CDL that I needed to actually be eligible for that bus driving job was a road test. I weaved through cones effortlessly and parked perfectly and ended up walking out of the crowded DMV with a brand new driver’s license…one that was authorized to pilot semis and school buses and the like.

I got it May 2nd, 2007. The expiration date was October 24th, 2011.

Today is October 24th, 2011.

I’m sitting in the DMV right now with my license in hand and my leg is shaking, which is something I tend to do when I’m a little nervous, but all in all I think I’m ready to ace this driving test again. I mean it’s not like I only drive the bus once a month or anything like that. It’s something I do every day. I just gotta renew my license so that the county doesn’t think I’m lying to them when I say I’m qualified.

They call my eloquent name and I run some crap over with the lady behind the desk who’s got big Coke-bottle glasses and a southern drawl. Then she gets up from the counter and walks me out to the parking lot where they’ve got a big semi truck that I remember having to drive for my first CDL test. Wasn’t that hard. Shouldn’t be too hard now. The only beef I have is that I’m 5’6 and it’s not exactly easy to enter a giant vehicle like that. At least a bus has steps.

Yet again I ace that test without so much as a drop of sweat forming on my fat forehead. It’s so easy to me that I pull it off in less than twenty minutes, which I don’t really mean to brag about, but who cares?

And that brief shining moment was the highlight of my day, dropping off the monsters and heading to the DMV after school to rightfully claim the proof of my only “talent” again. Isn’t it sad? I know. I laugh at the pathetic nature of it all too.

Maybe something will happen that’s worthy of writing about. I don’t know. I can’t predict the future.

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There’s something about driving that I’ve always loved. I think it’s that feeling you get right at a red light and you’re fixing to just speed out of the intersection, on your way to whatever comes next. Something about dropping your foot on the gas pedal to get away from your current position as quick as possible, darting away from it all.

And then there’s that feeling in the pit of your gut when gravity pushes you back in your seat, trying to keep you from going anywhere too fast. But then you’re out on the road doing sixty, saying goodbye to wherever you were before, too quick to be caught up by gravity ever again until you reach the next stoplight.