Letter: Bus drivers: our unsung super heros
Bus drivers: our unsung super heros
As the snow starts to melt and the memories of the Arctic North Pole whiteouts start to fade, town sits quietly in offseason and awaits the rush of the summer crowds.
But something maybe we should be doing — instead of waiting for the summer crowds — is giving thanks to our diehard bus drivers for the Roaring Fork Transportation Authority. Possibly a standing ovation. Maybe even a bus parade, where every person, big or little, who has ridden the bus should all line the streets clapping, throwing candy, balloons, fireworks, etc.
Basically, giving them the appreciation they deserve. I mean it. The whole town.
It was not an easy winter. After the first whiteout, I hung up my SUV keys and started riding the bus for the first time, ever.
I have never looked at anyone with such panic in my eyes, as I looked at the many changing faces on my night rides home to Basalt in blinding snow.
Blinding, zero visibility. Nada. Zero. I couldn’t see anything past the windshield wipers.
So I sat there, cautiously looking at my super hero (bus driver) and hoping that he/she still had all of their superpowers intact to get me home safely. Even at times, turning slowly to look at him or her and whispering softly, “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
Never once did I see a clenching of the jaw. A vein throbbing in a temple. Wet sweaty palms clenching the steering wheel and a “Mayday!” waiting to creep out of their lips!
Any of them. Ever.
I arrived at Willits, visibly shaking — but always alive — only to turn and thank my superhero/bus drivers.
I know that all super heros always get a parade with grateful people standing there clapping and patting them on the back for doing the job that they were meant to do … no matter how humanly impossible the task may seem.
Don’t be fooled: Under that calm exterior is a “Man of Steel” or a “Wonder Women.” Don’t forget to thank them, even though they might not need it. We need them!
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With much sorrow I heard of the passing of a good friend Bruce Berger. He was a man for all seasons, a pianist, prolific author, environmentalist, and lover of Aspen.