The big gigundo

Here’s another bus-story.
I drove the run with 1703 three years.
I inherited it from Eugene Muhammad, who also drove it three years.
Eugene gave it up, so I picked it.
It was a nice ride; a school-trip at first, and I killed about 45 minutes before making three trips to Pittsford, a ritzy suburb east of Rochester.
I’d nap over the motor during those 45 minutes, and used an alarm-watch.
The route was along East Ave. which traveled a long street out Rochester through a high-dollar neighborhood, then continued along East Ave. out to Pittsford.
Pittsford was definitely not the projects. In fact, my first trip was carrying domestic-help who had done cleaning out in Pittsford, but lived in the city.
Plus students at two colleges we served.
My second trip was rich commuters who worked in Rochester, and lived in Pittsford. This included Wendell and Ted. Wendell was a heavy-hitter at the local Gas & Electric, and Ted worked at a bank.
My last trip was late, starting about 6:15. It included a lady who sold mens ware at a local store who worked until 6. She lived in Pittsford.
I loaded behind Midtown Plaza; not Main & Clinton, the main bus-interchange in Rochester.
(Transit has since installed an airport-like “Transit-Center” to get buses off Main st.)
Returning I picked up Fred, who worked in the kitchen of one of the colleges. Fred was very talkative, and wanted to make friends.
I’m a poor talker; I keep to myself. Fred even sent me a Christmas-card.

Not an RTS 100-type bus, but similar.

One night I had 102-bus, a Flxible 870, by then part of Grumman.
102 was very angular, yet wide and fairly fast. Wendell was in back, holding court as usual, discussing politics with all-and-sundry, including Ted.
I drove out of Rochester on East Ave., taking Wendell and Ted home.
I crossed into Brighton, but got stopped by the traffic-light at Clover St. and Penfield Rd.
Finally the light changed, and I accelerated down East Ave. At this point East Ave. is four lanes, which it was all the way to my first college.
I was in the right lane, and a Dominé (“Dom-in-NAY”) Building Supply truck full of cinder-blocks passed me in the left lane.
All-of-a-sudden BAM; it sounded like I’d hit a barrel, but it was much louder. I was doing about 30-35 mph.
It was a Chevrolet Citation whose driver apparently hadn’t seen me behind the passing Dominé truck, and turned left right in front of me.
I totaled the Citation — bent it all-out-of-shape.
Its driver was belted in, but was knocked unconscious.
We rode up on the curb, and snapped a utility-pole like a matchstick. Wires fell on my bus.
The impact caved in the right front corner of my bus, making the front-door inoperable.
Wendell, etc. were worried sick about me. I was one of their favorites.
They were fine; they came up to ask if I was okay.
I called the radio and said I needed an ambulance, for the guy in the Citation.
Engage heavy Transit accident response; the C.E.O., my supervisor, and assorted other heavies.
They all came to my accident, and contrary to what I expected they tried to keep me calm.
Normally with an accident this severe, Transit fired you no matter whose fault it was, especially if you had poor attendance or some other no-no.
I didn’t complete the rest of my run that day, about three hours. An extra-bus came out to take home my passengers, including Wendell and Ted.
Wendell and Ted were concerned about my welfare. They knew how Transit was, that they might lose their favorite driver.
I was taken back to the Barns in a supervisor-car to fill out an accident report.
And they knew I’d do a gigantic accident report. I always did — my penchant for slinging words.
My report would then go to the Accident Review Board, perceived as a kangaroo-court. The reviewers were all management, and often fired anyone who hit anything, at fault or not.
You were supposed to be a professional driver, cognizant of all that was going on. That is, able to avoid Granny when she cut you off, or charged blindly in front of you.
I was, and they knew it.
Apparently the Dominé truck-driver called Transit, and told them there was nothing I could have done. That his truck blocked my view of the Citation, and also blocked the Citation-driver’s view of me.
So the Dominé-driver saved my job. When I reported for work the next morning, I wasn’t kicked out-of-service.
I also went to Dominé to thank the driver who saved my job.
The night of the accident I drove back to the scene. The utility-pole hadn’t been replaced yet; the wires were still down. They were only telephone wires.
I found the broken plastic grill-insert of the Citation under a spruce-tree. I still have it in my basement.

• For 16&1/2 years (1977-1993) I drove transit bus for Regional Transit Service (RTS) in Rochester, NY, a public employer, the transit-bus operator in Rochester and environs. My stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that. I retired on medical-disability. I recovered fairly well.
• “The Barns” are at 1372 East Main St. in Rochester, large sheds for storing buses inside. An operations administration building was attached. We bus-drivers always said we were working out of “the Barns.”
• RE: “Supervisor-car......” —A road-supervisor was an official of the company that rode around in a supervisor-car, supervised bus-drivers, and settled arguments with bus-passengers. They also attended bus accidents.