A View From The Bus Window


What you can see from the bus window varies between distorted mess on rainy days (or when no one has cleaned the bus windows for a while) to something unbelievable. It is no wonder that Today’s Perfect Moment can easily be culled from this vantage point.

The snow started around 1:30, and it had the markings of a classical storm the likes of which my current crop of students had neither seen nor experienced. The view from the window showed both big and small flakes that fell to the ground, rushed sideways like ice missiles, and swirled around on eddies made from the wind.  Of course accumulation had no choice but to happen.

Taking the bus home, I feared the worst. I feared being trapped on a slow moving bus, reaching home long after midnight.  I feared being trapped on the bus with only complete strangers to talk to.  I feared being trapped on the bus without a decent book to read or any power to my mp3 player.

Luckily none of these doomsday scenarios played themselves out.

However, out of the bus window, my eyes did catch something that definitely shouldn’t be Today’s Perfect Moment, but somehow became one after I pondered it for a bit.

Like I wrote, the bus ride was not the living hell I had expected it to be. It was also not the rocket express I wish it were in my dreams.  The bus moved, but it wasn’t racing through the snow like a race car driver either.

Out of the window to my left, I spotted the tracks before I spotted the car. As we were climbing a hill–no doubt in low gear, I spied squiggly lines in the snow as if made by a giant Spiro graph.  They were undulating waves.  My eyes grew quizzical and I struggled to comprehend.  It was then I saw the car.  It’s wheels were spinning and it was moving side to side, barely in control.  It was moving up the hill, but at a crawl.  When the bus passed it, I wondered if we would collect the car and drag it with us.  Fortunately that did not happen.

So why did I pick this? Maybe I just wanted to illustrate the practicality of having Snow tires when it is snowing or when you live in a region with a lot of snow.  Maybe I just wanted to remind people that learning how to drive also means learning how to drive in the environment you live in.  Maybe I just wanted to illustrate that one selfish act can have an effect on a huge line of cars that all want to get home and park their snow-tired cars in the driveway and watch Netflix.

As it was, I was home roughly at the same time as normal. I had to scamper over and through a few snow drifts–but I had my boots on.

About Anthony

I am: equal parts rebel, romantic and shockingly average Joe. a writer trapped inside of an ESL teacher's body. an introverted attention seeker. a teacher who hopes one day to be called "Captain, my Captain." an intellectual who can do some very dumb things. a person whose Japan experience, despite being so long ago, still exerts a strong influence upon him. a lover of books, music, beer, hockey and Pizza.
This entry was posted in Aspirations, Reflections, Perfection, bus, commuting, driving, seasons, snow, Toronto, TTC, Viva, weather, winter, York Region, YRT and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to A View From The Bus Window

  1. leggypeggy says:

    My dad insisted that I learn how to drive in snow, mud, sand etc. Has served me well.

  2. Heide says:

    You’re so right that one unprepared person can gum it up for everyone else, Anthony! Glad you got home close to the usual time, though, and that at least you had your boots.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s