Today we decided to take a little break from classic cars, muscle cars and vans. Hey, we can do that. Dammit ,we can! Just have a little fun with you guys.

This was the vehicle that you dreaded as much as flu shots. This was the thing that shivered your bones as you sat eating cold oatmeal on a Monday. This was the thing that when you saw it coming up the street , final fleeting thoughts ran through your head about sticking your finger down your throat and pretending to have the flu.

The same one that stunk of lighter fluid and beer. Mixed with a litle exhaust, a little wood chippings and the stench of vomit from the kid who couldn't hold down his Cheerios, much less ride in a moving vehicle .

A true beast of a machine that somehow could get away with the saftey belt laws and have kids running up and down the aisles while some strung out mother who is just trying to make ends meet drives the rig, wondering why in the fuck her kid really needs braces. I mean no one's teeth are fucked up enough for this job.

So thats the fun post of the day although now that i think about it, I might go in the bathroom and cry.

Add your own nightmare bus stories, cause I'm busy having some bad flashbacks.

-T

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I didn't have much experience with the big yellow bus, but what I did have was pretty much unforgettable.

I walked to school from kindergarten through sixth grade. In seventh grade, our town voted against the school budget and we went into an austerity budget for many years. Eighth grade, we trudged the mile or so to school on our own two feet. From 9th to 12th grade, when I went to private school, they shuffled us there and back in regular buses, the kind old ladies with shopping bags and scary men with wandering eyes rode in the morning.

So my only year riding the yellow monster was the 1974/75 school year, in seventh grade.
We had a bus driver that just might have been the prototype for Otto. Long haired, constantly red-eyed and completely ignorant of the shit that was going on in the back of the bus. Or let's say willfully ignorant. The smoking, cursing, fighting, dry humping, drug dealing, seat kicking, hair pulling, name calling, lunch stealing, money grubbing, fighting, fighting, fighting that went on from one end of town to the other.

I sat in the middle of the bus, far enough away from the back to not be bothered by the noise (hey, I was trying to get some more sleep in) and far enough away from the front to not be called a nerd.

Otto had a cassette player that he brought on the bus. James Duncan, Electronics Freak, also had a portable cassette player. Each day would bring a duel. James played the radio, though. I think the station was 99x. Every morning he'd be blasting songs like Seasons in the Sun and Billy Don't Be a Hero and Otto would be blasting things like Lou Reed and David Bowie and every time James would turn up his radio to try to drown out Otto's music, Otto would stop the bus, turn around, call James a faggot (had way different connotations back then) and then put in his tape that played nothing but Spark's This Town Ain't Big Enough for the Both of Us over and over again. I'd lean forward in my seat and concentrate on Sparks hard enough so that Hall and Oates or whatever the hell was playing on Duncan's radio would fade from my head.

And that's pretty much how I spent my one year on a school bus. Getting a contact high and learning how to drown out the crap music for the good stuff. Thanks, Otto.

-M

More muscle cars later folks. Right now we need a minute.

Dead Milkmen - Takin' Retards to the Zoo
Faith No More v. Sparks - This Town Ain't Big Enough For the Both of Us
Turbonegro - Back to Dungaree High

For past car entries, see sidebar.

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