Grandpa was a bus driver. And still is.

The TTA drivers all switched their routes recently. They apparently get to pick what routes they want to drive. Fair enough. Except I got Grandpa. He's driving both the morning and evening 105 routes. He is this hunched over, shriveled prune of a man. Simmer down. I don't think everyone over the age of sixty should have their license revoked and be committed to a home. However, this man doesn't exactly have the cat-like reflexes I prefer in my bus drivers. Seriously, he sort of pulls over into the other lane and looks only after he's started moving. He nearly hit I don't know how many cars in the morning AND the evening.

It was raining the other day. He was driving. He didn't start the stopping process when, say, a younger, more sprightly driver would have. The bus started to fishtail. Ever been on a gazillion ton city bus when the back end decides to move in a different direction than the front? Words fail me. Okay, maybe not. Terrifying.

It's crazy. Nice guy, though.