The Bus

When my young grandsons could no longer tolerate waiting for the grownups in the wine tasting room, we all stretched our legs and exited through the side door to the Texas Hill County acreage surrounding us. The rest of the family tumbled across the tree-shaded field to the goats and miniature horses gathered along the wire fence, awaiting each visitor’s customary food handout and head scratch.

Holland and I stayed behind to investigate the aged double-decker English city bus standing at the edge of the field, an ancient other-worldly sentinel, guarding a place to which it did not belong.

Visiting neighborhoods where we once lived is to return to the remnants of an earlier time, re-living cherished memories. It’s the same for this bus, shuttling strangers who forged deep friendships. We wonder at the passengers and the stories they once shared.

I recalled my own bus-riding chum, Joe. Why did every traveler on that bus know, like, and repect Joe? Self-deprecating, he wore a grin that possessed his entire face. Chicken-foot wrinkly skin embraced his blue-hued eyes, eyes that laughed and invited others to enjoy the silent joke. Joe was a toucher, not the kind of toucher that the news reports about. His was a hand on the shoulder or a gentle finger upon the humerus to let you know he was listening. Joe carried lunch in a backpack, a ritual since he began riding the bus after suffering a seizure, ending his freeway automobile commute. Will Rogers is famously quoted for never meeting a man he didn’t like. I believe in Joe’s case, it was true. Though he never finished high school, his bus ride transported him to his job as the COO of one of the state’s largest ice cream producers.

Humble man makes good.

Not a bad legacy for any of us.

The passengers from this misplaced English bus in a Texas Hill Country winery are long gone, taking with them their friendships and memories.

All who now remain are grandson Holland and myself. As I glimpse his tiny face in the abandoned bus mirror, I sense we are creating our own private history together.

I think it will be a good one.

Not a bad legacy for any of us.