The old bus still made it to its appointed destination every day.
This was largely due to the drivers who were all sympathetic to the engine, the gearbox, the axles and tyres as they might be to a child. A wayward child. They listened, they coaxed, pushed or tenderly encouraged, as appropriate.
So how could the drivers tolerate the complaints of their passengers, worse the totally ignoring attitude toward them and these machines? Some passengers seemed kinder to the bus than to the driver who they appeared to consider part of the operating equipment.
What the passengers didn’t know was that when the drivers retired after years of devoted duty, they all became members of a casual society of fellowship which guaranteed peace of mind and a sense of satisfaction.
I never knew that either!
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