City Bus Driver

Forget about Wall Street’s precious VIX, try driving a bus through rush hour and see how real volatility feels. While traders panic over market whispers, I’m out here dodging cyclists, gritting my teeth through green lights that flip amber in an instant, and bracing for a pensioner’s precarious balance on my top step. When it comes to unpredictability, the stock market’s a toddler’s tantrum compared to what happens when you’re behind the wheel. Forget the VIX, Try Driving a Bus Through This Lot They call it the Fear Index. The VIX. Wall Street’s precious little pulse monitor. A gentle flutter in inflation and it faints. A whisper of tariff talk, and it needs a lie down in a dark room with chamomile tea. It's cute, really, watching traders panic because someone mentioned “macroeconomic headwinds” on CNBC. Meanwhile, I’m trying to merge into a roundabout with a school run coming from all directions and a pensioner standing unbraced on my top step, gripping nothing but sheer optimism....

You can be as posh as you like, strut around in designer clothes with your fluffy dog by your side, but the moment you start swinging a bag of dog shit like it’s the latest fashion accessory, you've officially crossed into another level of madness. The Poshest Poo Bag You'll Ever See Alright, listen up, because I’ve just had one of those moments that makes you question everything. You know the kind, where you’re just minding your own business, driving your bus, doing your job, and then something so bloody ridiculous happens you have to remind yourself that you’re not in a sitcom. So, it's a beautiful Saturday afternoon, right? The sun’s out, birds are chirping, and the whole world is pretending that everything’s perfect. And what do I get to see through the window of my bus, as I drive down the road like the seasoned professional I am? This woman. This woman who looks like she’s just stepped out of a Cosmopolitan magazine. Full-on, head-to-toe elegance. The kind of woman wh...

When the markets crash, I don’t need Bloomberg to tell me. I see it on the faces at the bus stop. Tariffs go up, and suddenly everyone’s carrying packed lunches and stress. The billionaires aren’t panicking, they’re shopping. Economic Repercussions You can always tell when something’s up in the economy. Before it hits the headlines, it hits the bus. The bloke who used to chat about upgrading his car? Now asking if we’ve got any driver vacancies. The regular who used to buy a coffee for the ride? Cold flask. Same coat. Worn face. The fare dodgers are sneakier. The pensioners quieter. Everyone’s just… a little more tired. And me? I’m still driving the same route, dodging potholes the council can’t afford to fix, thanks to budget cuts brought on by yet another economic shake-up dressed in red, white, and blue. This time, it’s Trump’s tariff circus again. Round two. "America First" they said. More like markets last, small businesses folded, and guess who’s still getting richer? Y...

Fare hikes arrive, Trump announces tariffs, and somewhere in the chaos, a man boards with last year’s change. I break the news with a smirk and a made-up tax. Confusion? Always, comedy? Guaranteed. When Small Change Meets Big Policy Some updates come with posters and emails. Others arrive via a baffled punter clutching three coins and a question mark. There’s something deliciously poetic about fare increases and global politics colliding at the exact moment someone’s rummaging through a lint-filled pocket for exact change. It always starts the same way: a familiar face boards the bus, throws in a few quid, exactly the same as they did in 2022, and expects time to freeze. Then they stand there. Expectantly. Waiting for a beep. A receipt. A miracle. Anything. “Sorry,” I’ll say with a gentle driverly shrug, “there’s been a slight fare adjustment.” Cue the blank look. The "Oh no, not again" furrowed brow. Sometimes the squint, as if the hopper might spit the coins back with an ap...

Ever wonder what happens when a seasoned taxi driver takes a seat on a city bus at night? Spoiler: It's not pretty. From fish suppers to bell abusers, this is the one ride even a veteran chauffeur can’t handle. When a Taxi Driver Meets the Bus: A Ride You Can’t Unsee If you’ve ever driven a city bus late at night, you’ll know there’s a cast of regulars who make the journey... interesting. You've got the usual crowd, shifty-eyed characters who never pay but somehow always have a meal in hand. Then there are the partiers, treating the bus like an afterparty on wheels. And of course, the lost souls, struggling to stay awake, only to wake up just after their stop. But last night? Last night was something special. I had a rare breed aboard: a taxi driver on his night off. A man who’s spent decades chauffeuring drunks, philosophers, and blokes passionately explaining the offside rule at 3 a.m., and yet, somehow, he thought bus driving would be a walk in the park. When he boarded, I c...

Some days, the city throws a minor traffic jam your way. Other days, it flings a light aircraft into an oak tree just to keep you on your toes. One moment, you're dodging delivery vans and errant cyclists, the next, you're staring at a scene that looks like the result of a flight simulator glitch. It’s not every day you expect to see a plane tangled up in the branches on your usual route, but then again, nothing should surprise me anymore. This job has taught me that if something can happen, it probably will, though even I wasn't prepared for a mid-air parking mishap right in the middle of my shift.  When a Light Aircraft Decides to Park in a Tree: A Surreal Sight on My Route It was just past midday, and I was weaving my way through the outer suburbs when it happened. I had been cruising along, minding my own business, when I noticed something red and out of place in my peripheral vision. At first, I thought someone had got creative with their Christmas decorations, despite...

Some passengers make a dramatic entrance, but this bloke took it to another level. One dropped bottle, one panicked reflex, and one perfectly executed underarm throw later, he’d not only ejected his drink from the bus but also introduced it, at high speed, to the windows of a parked car. Both of them. The Fizz, The Flight, and the Fallout There are moments in life when time slows down. A dropped wedding ring. A pint teetering off the edge of a pub table. A phone slipping from your grip over a toilet bowl. This was one of those moments. The bloke had launched himself onto the bus in a hurry, clutching a large bottle of fizzy something-or-other like it was his most prized possession. But fate had other plans. The bottle slipped from his grasp, tumbled to the floor, and landed with a dull thud. For a split second, nothing happened. Then, with all the menace of an unexploded grenade, it began to fizz.  What happened next was pure instinct, the kind of reflexive, unthinking reaction usu...

On a weekend night, with the city’s pulse shifting into a darker rhythm, one passenger’s frantic journey was a race against more than just time. His curfew, a fragile line between freedom and a world of consequences, was at risk of snapping. As the minutes ticked down and delays mounted, the pressure grew unbearable. What was he running from? What would happen if he didn’t make it in time? This wasn’t just another late-night ride; this was a life on the edge. Racing the Devil: A Passenger on the Brink The city at night has a different pulse. A darker one. The weekend crowd slouches in doorways, spilling laughter and smoke, while others slip through the cracks, moving with a different kind of urgency. I’d seen them all before, the night owls, the restless, the ones with too much time and the ones with none at all. Then there was him. Sat near the front, shifting in his seat like he had ants in his veins. A walking red flag, the kind you clock early. Sharp jaw, darting eyes, that restles...

Two pensioners, always late, turned a simple bus stop wait into a race for the ages. A cheeky wave and a flick of the hazard lights, and suddenly, they were sprinting like Olympians! The Pensioners Who Turned a Bus Stop Into a Sprint! It was one of those evenings where the golden sunset turned the streets into a dreamlike haze. I was trundling along my route, enjoying the rhythm of the drive, when I spotted them: two pensioners, as determined as ever, trying to make their way to the bus stop. The usual scenario – them, never quite on time. And me? Well, I was getting pretty comfortable with my role in this little comedy act. This time, I wasn’t waiting for them to catch up like usual. I had a plan. As I cruised by, I made sure to really give them a wave – and I’m talking a cheeky, exaggerated wave, like I was waving goodbye to them from a train as it pulled away. It was deliberate. I wanted them to see me, really see me, giving them that "better luck next time, ladies" wave. ...

What started as a standard shift quickly spiralled into a multi-agency operation, a mechanical standoff, and an unexpected moral dilemma. From a medical emergency to a bus that refused to reverse, and a final, fateful encounter with a wounded deer, the road had one last test before letting me go home. Some nights, driving a bus is about more than just the journey. When a Routine Shift Becomes Anything But It started as a routine shift, one of those days where you hope the most dramatic thing you'll encounter is a passenger asking if you go somewhere you very obviously don’t. But fate had other plans. The outgoing driver mentioned a passenger who needed medical assistance but assured me everything was in hand. I nodded along, blissfully unaware that my shift was about to turn into a multi-agency operation featuring medical drama, mechanical failures, and an unexpected plot twist. Shortly after setting off, I noticed a concerned expression from a boarding passenger, an expression tha...

A 95-year-old’s quick thinking and a shiny walking stick turned into an unmissable signal, stopping a bus in the most unexpected way! The Walking Stick That Stopped a Bus I’d just turned left at the lights, making steady progress towards the next stop, a bus shelter usually teeming with shoppers. I was a minute early, cruising comfortably between timing points, when suddenly, FLASH! A blinding light struck my eyes from the left. One of those where-the-hell-did-that-come-from moments. My first thought? Some kid with a laser pen having a laugh. But no, there was no one there. Just the quiet pavement, behaving itself. Then, FLASH! Again! Square in the eyes. “What the…?” And then I saw her. A proper veteran of life, standing in the distance, furiously waving a polished metal walking stick above her head. Not just waving, wielding. The thing caught the sun at the perfect angle, firing off warning shots like a distress beacon. Her walking aid was stretched out full length in front of her, as...

On an ordinary bus ride, a strange observation sparks an unexpected mystery. One passenger's fingers, inexplicably smelling of roast beef, leave everyone questioning reality.  The Roast Beef Conundrum The rain was falling in that half-hearted, miserly way that suggests it couldn’t care less about its task. The streets were slick, the passengers bored, and the bus trundled along with the sort of rhythm that mirrors the tired minds inside. It was one of those afternoons where time drips, like the raindrops running down the windows, slow, steady, almost imperceptible. Nothing to disturb the usual hum. Until the voice broke through. Your fingers,” it said, clear and deliberate, “smell like roast beef. The words hung in the air like the first odd drop of a rainstorm, causing ripples across the bus. For a moment, there was silence, a collective pause, as if the universe itself had been thrown off course by the mere suggestion. I glanced up in the mirror. The scene in front of me was one ...

Some moments at work stick with you, not because they’re dramatic, but because they shift your perspective in a way you didn’t expect. A routine chat in the depot led to a revelation that caught me off guard, not in a bad way, just in a how did I miss that? kind of way. But as the moment settled, so did something else: a quiet happiness, not just for my colleague, but for the kind of workplace where being yourself isn’t a big deal, it’s just normal. Note: In this job, we’re trained to see things coming, anticipate the unexpected, spot trouble before it happens, always keep our eyes open. And yet, somehow, I completely missed this one. No hazards, no warning signs, just a colleague casually dropping news that had apparently been sitting at the bus stop for ages while I drove right past it.  A Workplace Where Being Yourself Is Normal There’s a rhythm to our mornings as bus drivers. A nod here, a raised coffee cup there, a language of silent camaraderie before the first passengers of...

A sudden bang shatters the calm of a packed bus, jolting me into a past I thought I'd left behind. For a split second, I’m not just a driver, I’m somewhere else entirely. And all because of one unsuspecting walking stick. When a Walking Stick Sounds Like the End of the World Picture this, a packed bus, mid-afternoon, teetering at a busy junction, my foot delicately feathering the brake like a concert pianist caressing the keys. Every passenger, blissfully unaware of the precarious ballet I’m performing with traffic, just wants to get where they’re going. Then, it happens. A sharp BANG!, a noise so loud, so sudden, that my heart attempts an unauthorised departure through my ribcage. It’s the kind of sound you don’t want to hear while threading through lanes of impatient motorists, not unless you enjoy adrenaline-fuelled existential crises. For a split second, time freezes. My hands grip the wheel a little tighter. A dozen heads jerk up in synchrony, wide-eyed, scanning for the impen...

Valentine’s Day meets bus driver humour in a playful twist on classic love poems. From traffic jams to unexpected romance, these verses prove that even the longest routes can be filled with laughter. Hop on and enjoy the ride! Love, Laughter, and a Busload of Banter So, why not take a few well-known love poems and give them a little twist from behind the wheel? These bus-themed versions prove that even when you're stuck in traffic, a good laugh can still keep things rolling. Hop on, sit back, and enjoy these playful reimagining's of classic rhymes – because who says romance can’t have a bit of bus driver humour? Valentine’s Day is all about celebrating unique relationships with personalised messages and meaningful gestures of love. Roses are red, the bus is on time, I never knew love until I saw you in line! Roses are red, the seats are askew, coffee’s gone cold, and so are you. Roses are red, the route’s a disaster, if you’re late again, I’ll make you walk faster. Roses are re...

A forgotten bus pass, a firm policy, and a split-second decision, sometimes, the right call isn’t about rules but recognising potential. When a determined teenager sprinted off instead of arguing, I saw more than just a fare dodger. And that changed everything. When the Right Decision Isn’t in the Rulebook It’s that feeling of uncertainty when you have to make a call, unsure whether the outcome will benefit the bottom line or cause more problems down the road. For us on the buses, it’s often about protecting the revenue, standing firm on policies, and not letting a chancer slip through the cracks. But let’s be honest, sometimes the line between being firm and being reasonable is thinner than you think. There are days when a decision feels like a loss. You know, the kind where you stick to the rulebook, yet something doesn’t sit right after the fact. It’s a hard call to make, knowing when to enforce the policy and when to offer a bit of leeway. A free ride here and there might not seem ...

A colleague’s plea. A dog tied to a post in the cold night. A fleeting moment where help was possible, but uncertainty and silence leave the real question: Did I miss my chance to make a difference? When a Missing Dog Becomes a Burden of Unanswered Questions As I stepped on the bus for my changeover, I caught my colleague’s gaze. There was something in his eyes, a quiet urgency that spoke volumes. It wasn’t just a glance; it was a plea wrapped in a question. The kind of look that said, I need your help, and not just any help, but the kind that feels like a turning point.      " Can you do me a favour?” he asked, his voice low, almost apologetic.  I nodded, though the knot in my stomach had already tightened. “What’s up?” “There’s a dog,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “I saw it on my way back here. Tied to a post, shivering. Looks bad. Really bad.” The words hit me like a punch, sharp and immediate. My thoughts raced, scrambling for meaning. Was he asking me t...