The end of the school year makes for a busy bus driving schedule. There are activity runs all year long, but during the last two months of school activity runs multiply like rabbits. Just last week, in addition to my regular morning and afternoon runs I had four all-day activity runs. These make running my computer repair shop difficult, but they are also a lot of fun.

On Tuesday I dropped my elementary school kids at school and stayed where I was to pick up a load of first graders fifteen minutes later. Out they came in a line following a teacher. There were lots of parents with them acting as chaperones. First graders are sweet. Their innocence is refreshing. The destination was downtown Salt Lake City. I never look forward to Salt Lake City trips. There is the congested freeway, narrow city streets, one-way streets, railway tracks, and no parking—it’s an obstacle course for a school bus.

I dropped the kids and their adults off at Discovery Gateway and then began the next mission: find a place to park the bus for a couple of hours. This is downtown Salt Lake City. There is no open space and people have learned they can make a lot of money off of parking. I finally found a parking lot kitty-corner to Temple Square. This lot was not meant for buses but it was largely empty that morning. I had to squeeze between two cement posts at the entrance and then park using slightly more than two parking stalls. I paid for both stalls for two hours an made my way to beautiful Temple Square where I enjoyed two hours of reading among the blossoming trees and flowers next to the historic buildings. Moments like those are a perk of bus driving.

At noon I picked up the kids and we made our way out of the congestion of the Salt Lake Valley to the slightly less congested Utah Valley. We found a park in Lehi where we could eat our sack lunches. The kids and adults scattered about the lawn in groups in the dappled sunshine under the trees to eat. One of my regular kids called to me from her group, “Hi, Tory.” Some of my regular kids in other groups heard her and called to me, too. “Hi, Tory.” That is another perk of being a bus driver—the fame. After eating the kids ran off to the playground and mixed with kids from other schools who were already there. I wondered how they would ever get them unmixed. When it was time to go I heard a whistle and then saw a stampede of kids heading my way. Those teachers have trained the kids well. We got back to the school just in time to drop the kids and then reload for the afternoon run.

On Wednesday it was much the same. I took the third grade to a Utah history museum in Lehi. Parking was slightly easier and much less expensive there. I spent the two hours enjoying the museum with the kids and their adults. Quite often, between docent sessions, I would have a fresh-faced third grader sidle up to me, tell me a few things about his day, and then move on. Afterwards we went to the very same park to eat our sack lunches. The third-graders weren’t quite as sweet as the first-graders and far more complex. I ate lunch with a group of them that included a couple of my regular riders and observed the beginnings of social pressure at play among them. Once again we got back to the school just in time to unload and reload for the afternoon run.

On Friday I took the fifth grade to the Monte L. Bean Life Science Museum on BYU campus. In my head we would drop the kids in the parking lot behind the museum and then park there. In reality there was a woman’s conference on campus with thousands of attendees and their cars. There were busloads of kids from other schools visiting the museum. There was a state track meeting with thousands of attendees using the BYU facilities. In other words, the campus was highly congested. My first, second, and third parking lot choices were full. As I drove down toward the BYU stadium I saw the biggest gathering of school buses I had ever seen. Luckily there was room for one more. I negotiated the tight corners and made my way in. I swung that bus around and backed it in between two other buses. Success. It’s always a relief to find a place to put a bus for a couple of hours. Picking up the kids was tricky. The lot behind the museum was clogged with parked cars and other buses. With some backing I turned the bus around in a turnaround that was too small for buses to turnaround in. Then I pretty much blocked the lane in front of the museum while waiting for my kids to load. Sometimes you have to be a bit of a rebel to be a school bus driver. I took the kids to Pioneer Park to eat their lunch. I learned that fifth graders are old enough to start experiencing popularity and posturing, but still young enough to enjoy the playground.

On Saturday I picked up the high school track team at 5:45 am. Ugh, that’s an early Saturday morning. I have to give credit to the kids’ commitment. I drove them up to BYU and parked in the same lot I parked in the day before. Knowing the parking layout in advance takes away a lot of the bus driving anxiety. I was the second bus there beating the other fifty two. The track meet would last all day. This was a real boon for me. I rarely get an “all-day” to myself. After parking my bus I stopped for a breakfast bagel and then climbed the hill to the main campus. The BYU Harold B. Lee Library was waiting just for me. I spent a sweet eight hours on the fifth floor writing chapter 28 of my novel. I relished every minute of so much time. At 5:00 pm I walked the mile-and-a-half back to my bus to drop my computer off and then made my way to the track.

An hour-and-a-half later, after some exciting races, we were loaded up and heading home. All-in-all the trip took fourteen hours. I enjoy the track kids. They are an inspiring bunch of kids. Most of them aren’t champions (as in first, second, or third place) and yet they work their butts off in practice and are willing to get up at 5:00 am on a Saturday morning for a meet anyway. Yes, they are inspiring.

So that was the week of a school bus driver. It was filled with challenges, interesting places, and beautiful faces. When people find out that I, a healthy middle-aged man, drive a school bus I see a little confusion on their faces. Should they feel sorry for me and come up with positive words to help me feel good about myself in my difficult situation? I personally think they should envy me. Although driving a school bus is an integral part of my plan as an author, the enviable part is how rich and fulfilling he experience is.