Smiter’s Law, No. 287 – Buses

When you most need a bus – say, when you are hobbling to a checkup at the hospital, in the sleeting rain, with a cracked tibia, a chipped kneecap, two broken ribs and your arm in a cast – there will be no bus. Anywhere. You will stagger along for the entire 30-minute walk, bus ticket clutched in your trembling unbroken paw, and the roads will be as bus-free as though aliens with giant magnets had hovered briefly overhead and sucked them all up, for nefarious intergalacitc purposes known only to them.

"Greetings, Earthling. Take us to your transit devices."

When you most emphatically do NOT need a bus, however, there will be buses, of a frequency and plenitude that suggests either a) the aforementioned alien magnet has suddenly malfunctioned & dropped all its prey back to Earth, or b) the TTC suddenly got new funding.

If you are on foot, the buses will pass you merrily, one after the other, like a wagon train, tootling gaily and emitting great dark farts of smog as they go.

If you are in your car, and especially if you are on a narrow road with a full bladder and a deadline, the bus(es) will be directly in front of you, lurching and belching ponderously along, ahead of schedule so that the driver is slumped near death in his seat, sipping a latte and whistling absently to himself. It is like being stuck behind an outsized wheeled toaster oven, with none of the benefits – no pastry will be yours at the end of the interminable wait.

TTC. Take The Car.

Dum de dum de dum de dum......


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