#10 Dee Why to Downtown Bus Trips – A Diary of Stuff that Popped into My Head One Week.

The final Bus Trips piece...now I have to get serious and post real stuff.

Returning - Wednesday, 4.28p.m., 14 December 2011 

Somehow we’ve gone back in time. We’ve gone back in time to when I suggested we start the week clean and fresh with a swept and mopped bus floor. I say this because this E84 has the cleanest floor so far. They took my suggestion after all.

As I look around this afternoon’s bus, I see such precision. You can see a lot of thought and planning has gone into the design of the interior of the bus. Everything has its perfect place from the two luggage racks at the front, to the layout of the large windows, the placing of the green ticket machine and the six spring-loaded seats that greet you as you step past the isolated bus driver posted on his instrument-surrounded seat. Nuts and bolts are bold-looking and tight throughout.

Despite this, I’m hearing a lot of squeaks and rattles. All of these newer buses squeak and rattle. I think they’re made in Sweden. Do the Swedes purposely build in squeaks and rattles for character? If so, I don’t mind. I feel quite safe.

We’ve been cruising past patches of agapanthus for the last four minutes or so. And although my eyes have been on the journal pages, I can see them waving at me. And they’ve been aware I smiled back at them. Agapanthus make good friends. They offer a reliable, telepathic and comforting friendship.

This bus has quite some energy. It’s strong and hauling us home like she’s already emptied all her passengers out.

There’s a well-dressed lady with short, blonde hair holding a book open in her seat: Hell West and Crooked it’s called. The letters on the back of this book are big and red, so I easily read the title. But every time I’ve done the meerkat – popped up to look around – she’s not reading it. Is she tired? Bored? Thinking about other things? Can she actually read? I perceive her to be a nice lady, friendly with a good heart. I wonder what her story is. Why the book is open, but the reading process is frozen. Should…?

It’s going to feel strange not writing about my daily bus trips. The buses and I got to know each other a little, we became closer. Did the buses enjoy having me as a passenger? Did the buses notice me? I hope so, I noticed them.