The oblong box cruises south on Mopac. It is 6:22 on a mid-week morning and still dark outside. The interior lights are off. Two individual overhead spotlights are on as two of my passengers read. That means 21 passengers are asleep in the recliner seats. That makes me feel good because my smooth driving lulled them to sleep, which is what they wanted and looked forward to when they boarded at Leander and Lakeline. A 15-minute nap will help them get through the morning. As I drive this particular morning I see a meteor streak down and quickly disappear. It is the end of its million mile journey. I don’t mention this to my passengers. It is too early to wake them.
But like almost all good things, this ride, as comfy and cozy as it is, is disturbed at 6:26 when the first passengers deboard from the bus. I go into my routine. “Time to get up. Don’t forget anything. Make sure you have what belongs to you. Up and at ’em. Show them what you’re made out’ve.” Reminds me of when I was the duty N.C.O. in the Marines and had to call reveille, decades back. I walked the barracks to make sure every marine was up. Job well done.
My passengers know me by my name because this is the third time (or “mark-up,” to use transportation lingo) I’ve had this run, the 987 Leander.
Each of my passengers smiles at me as they walk out and onto work. It’s priceless.
They are in a good mood because their morning commute was quiet. Uneventful. Just as they like it. I did my part in making their day start off well. In turn they will make other people’s day better. It is a chain reaction made from positive energy. At 6:44 the bus is empty except for me. And I think to myself, “Another job well done.”