Bus Report #934
But today was different. Instead of passing right on by, the bus slowed and the driver opened the door.
"You're a 21, not a 33, right?" I asked, peering in.
He nodded. "Yeah but I'll give you a ride to Stanyan if that's where you're headed."
How very nice of him!
I thanked him and told him I'd wait, and wished him a great day. He waved and drove off.
Five minutes later, my bus arrived. The driver was the man with the recently sprained wrist.
We greeted each other warmly.
"Hey, how's the wrist?" I asked.
"Aw, it's great, I don't have to wear my splint anymore," he replied.
"That's great news," I told him, and then walked back and took a seat.
Later, crossing the street in Potrero Hill, the smiley driver from a couple weeks ago rode by in his accordion bus, waving and grinning as he went.