Behind The Bus

Wharncliffe Road is in London, Ontario.  It’s a busy four-lane street with no left turn lanes for a stretch of eight blocks or so.  Many years ago, I sold life insurance and was on Wharncliffe every working day.  After getting stuck several times behind cars that were turning left, I created a rule: “Stay in the right lane.”  It worked pretty well, except for the occasional bus making its stops.  Being an upwardly mobile young businessman, I learned how to zip back and forth to avoid all pausing vehicles.

I became a driven (so to speak) salesman, looking for every advantage on the road and elsewhere.  No wonder I needed medication for high blood pressure.  Go, go, go!  Be better.  Push.

But is this really a wise way to lead a life?  I’d say not.  Today I experimented with another choice.  I was on Wharncliffe, naturally in the right lane.  Up ahead I spied a bus and my hands contracted on the wheel.  My index finger lurked over the left turn signal.  Somewhere inside, though, there was a quiet “No”, and my digit returned to the wheel.  The bus was slowing, with its right turn signal on.  I nestled in behind and came to a stop.  My lips were pursed, protesting such unusual behaviour.  Isn’t faster the way to go?  “No” again.  I scanned the sidewalk for the number of bus boarders.  “No” once more.

Mr. or Miss Bus Driver pulled away from the curb and we were off again … at a sedate pace.  There were no cars coming up in the left lane.  I could easily have moved over but I chose not to.  Slow as it goes.  No tailgating either.  And then we were coming to a stop again.  This time my heart was pure and calm.  We’ll get there when we get there.

And so our journey together unrolled until I turned off on Duchess Avenue.  Bye, you calm bus.  Hello, you calm Bruce.  Nice.


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