Dad was a bus driver, and when he finished work he would repair cars.
I do periodically ride a bus with my kids.
the bus timetable sites are all run by an inbred cabal of malicious gnomes. Who don’t speak English. And who don’t count very well either. Or tell time. And they certainly can’t read maps.
I still live in the city. I still jump on the bus.
I can't say I'm an expert on public transport.
I walk to Oxford Street and climb on the number 8. It's freezing and it starts to rain and it's the ugliest bus I've ever seen, rattling down the ugliest streets, in the ugliest city, in the ugliest country, in the ugliest of all possible worlds.
I know how to get around London better than Sydney.
Bus routes reach the most obscure corners of Paris. There's also the Metro - and especially the great Line No. 1, which runs on tires under the Champs-Elysees and beyond.
Look at all the buses now that want exact change, exact change. I figure if I give them exact change, they should take me exactly where I want to go.
Sometimes I get recognised and sometimes I don't. The bus drivers will sometimes stop to try and get a selfie at peak times with traffic all around you!
