Expect anything

—“Boy-oh-boy, am I glad I drove bus,” I yelled to a lady who pulled right out in front of me. “Signal on, I had the right-of-way, and you had a stop-sign.
But apparently that was enough for you to pull right out in front of me, prompting me to slam on my brakes.”
During my Transit bus-driving class, they told us to expect anything.
Just north of my house is an old intersection of the road from Honeoye Falls with Pittsford-West Bloomfield Road, plus Baker Road to the east. (A four-road cross-intersection.)
That road from Honeoye Falls comes from the west, and Pittsford-West Bloomfield is north-south. I live along that north-south road.
That road from Honeoye Falls became State Route 65 and the segment of Pittsford-West Bloomfield I live on also became 65.
So my address is State Route 65.
In other words State Route 65 turns 90° south at that intersection. The intersection was re-graded to make the 90° turn more gradual, and stop-signs were in added on Baker Road and Pittsford-West Bloomfield.
So that 90° turn is continuous, and has the right-of-way.
I always signal that turn so those at the stop-signs know I intend to use the right-of-way.
Not this lady. The fact I signaled my intent was reason for her to disregard.
She waited a bit, then drove right in front of me, completely oblivious = “boy am I glad I drove bus!”
EXPECT ANYTHING!
Bus-driving required intense concentration: 100%.
Here I come, 40 mph down a four-lane, next to a supermarket parking-lot. Nine tons of hurtling steel, 25-30 souls entrusting me to get ‘em home safely.
Granny aims her white LeSabre out the parking-lot exit. She’s got Emma riding shotgun with her.
“Oh look Dora,” Emma shouts. “A bus, a bus! Pull-out, pull-out! Floor it!”
And I gotta stop nine tons of hurtling steel on a dime without tossing my passengers out of their seats.
“Just hit the Buick,” my bosses would say. “Your passengers are more important.”
Do that and “You’re fired!” “We told you to expect anything.”
Now, 26 years later, my brother wonders why my following-distances are so much greater than required.
“I’m still driving bus,” I say. “I wanna be able to stop without tossing my passengers.”
“You coulda pulled out,” he’d say.
“NOPE! One thing I learned driving bus was to not scare the four-wheelers.
Sure, I had plenty of time to merge, but that four-wheeler might think otherwise, and involve me in an accident.”
“His fault,” my brother would shout.
“Except we all suffer,” I’d say. “My car gets crippled, accident-reports need to be filled out; weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. Better to wait 30 seconds.”
At Transit (RTS) you’d get fired even if you were off your bus, and it was involved in an accident while safely parked. (Like granny slid her LeSabre into your bus.)
At Transit a driver pulled in, then parked his bus next to the garage, but running (normal procedure: it might not start for the wash-guys). He set the brake, kicked it outta gear, then left for supper at home.
Except the gearshift didn’t actually take it out-of-gear, and the air-brakes leaked away.
His bus idled off on-its-own and took out a wall.
Management had to blame someone, so they fingered the at-home driver. Called him up, and called him in.
“How could you work for such idiots?” people ask.
“100% concentration,” I say. “Naps to counter burn-out.”
Pretty good wage-rate, plus bennies. Management declared it outrageous.
“Anyone can drive bus,” they complained.
Loose cannons got fired. (And willy-nilly.)

• 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 heart-defect caused stroke October 26th, 1993 ended that over 26 years ago. I retired on medical-disability, and that defect was repaired. I recovered well enough to return to work at a newspaper; I retired from that almost 15 years ago.