My Daughter’s Buses Again…

Sometimes my daughter will take a different bus.  It still goes to the same place only it goes by a different road, or, more accurately, lots of different roads.

This one meanders through the backstreets of Beckenham  picking up ladies and gentlemen who do not live on the main road, but in little retirement houses set back into what were once fields but are now a mass of lovely, red-tiled town houses on streets named beguilingly for the flowers that used to bloom in the meadows, Tulip, Daffodil, Violet, Snowdrop, Primrose and Hyacinth.  The roads are narrow, built for two lanes of traffic, narrow traffic really, mostly motorised wheelchairs.

There is a pick up at every stop so in addition to the twisty, windy, little roads slowing things down there is also the constant stopping and starting.  Enough to make anybody dizzy.

One morning Malia’s bus met another bus.  They were both lady drivers and neither was going to give an inch.

Bus 1

This could not have been the first time a bus had met head on along this way but they got to a point where the one would not yield to the other and a full stop resulted.

They smiled and sat and looked at each other.

They smiled and sat and looked at each other again.

Bus 2

Finally they both started to back up…not an easy task in one of those long red buses.   Another impasse ensued.

Bus 3

Finally, and Malia silently cheered, the other bus reversed until there was room for her bus to pass.  Their side view mirrors touched and the cars on either side were in dire danger of being scraped, but the passing occurred and they continued on their ways.

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