The School Bus

[Hal Copple]

I have gotten a kick out the start of school here in Upstate SC, I love going to work the long way, past the local HS, and the middle school, with all the kids in the left lane, slowly turning into the parking lot at the former, I make sure I go by them at about 3000 rpm in first, just to make their Cokes fizz over. I have one place, sort of rural road, where about a dozen high school kids stand out in front of their mobile home park, where lately I come down the hill about 8 am, and now when they see me coming down the slope, they start pumping the air, raising fists, just a hollarin' and hootin', so naturally, I wave and toss them some pipes, and today even did a less than subtle downshift to first, abruptly letting out the clutch, so they could savor the warm Goodyear I left for them. A man has to keep the fire going in the youth of today, as regards American Iron, lest they be lost to the Rice Car thing forever. I try to do my part.

But we have been sorely troubled with too much rain in these parts, over 7 FEET since last fall, which is a hardship if one drives a roadster daily. I do enjoy sitting once again by a paused school bus, with the kids trying to climb out the windows to get a better look at what is causing all the ruckus. But let me tell you about the rainy days. Sometimes, I am almost home, coming back from quick morning rounds at the hospital, coming home for a quick change of duds before I race back to the office, and it will start to rain. So there I sit, behind a big behemoth yellow International or BlueBird bus, as it idles in front of some rural home, me getting more and more wet, just a few minutes from the dryness of my garage.

And finally, as my glasses water up so bad I can scarcely see, little Timmy Toddler, some first grader comes out to the bus, but about the time he gets to the beckoning doors of the bus, he forgets his lunch box, so he runs back to the house, me getting wetter and wetter, then once again he sallies forth from the house to attempt to board, then I watch him get called back to the porch for a goodbye kiss from his mom, usually in her bathrobe. Then Little Timmy makes progress again out towards the road, his bus, and the soaked SPF, and then sure enough, his mother calls that he forgot his bookbag, so once again he trundles back to the porch for his yellow bookbag, and then for the last time squishes his way to the bus, and mounts up. The driver then pulls in the STOP sign, and the bus with a now soaked Hal following starts to roll down the hill.

I swear, this kid does this ever rainy day to me!! I think I should just keep his lunch box and book bag in my car, and drop them off at his elementary school, up the road. I won't kiss him goodbye for the day, but I am sure I can have his teacher do the job for his mother.

Someday, he will probably grow up and be a famous race driver, known for his driving skills on a wet track. And I can say I knew Timmy when he was just another wet child, late for the bus.

Hal, musing about it all.