Full speed behind
Most bus journies are a little mundane, and that's what I like about them. For every journey where there's a little bit of excitement or stress, there are tens of other occasions where everything runs perfectly smoothly and nothing of note happens. But sometimes - just sometimes - there's a journey that stays with you forever.

One Saturday afternoon a year or two ago, I was on the bus heading back towards the suburbs of Manchester, whizzing through the Cheshire countryside. It had been raining that week, so much so that this route's passage under a narrow canal bridge was blocked by flooding. I was the only person left on the bus at this point, travelling against the flow of city daytrippers. We duly followed the Diverted Traffic signs along a narrow country lane, until we reached a small humpback bridge with a steep descent on either side.

"Sorry about this," calls out the driver from the front of the vehicle, "I think we've gone the wrong way. Could you come and have a look at this map?" I go up front and take a glance at a printout from a leading online mapping provider. It's difficult to make out the roads from the background, everything merging into a dull grey with one or two anonymous looking biro marks. "We can't go over this bridge," says the driver, and I agree - the signs must have been intended for nothing larger than a small van. "There's nowhere to turn round, so we're going to have to reverse down the lane. Do you mind getting out and giving me a hand?"

There's already a small build-up of traffic in either direction by the time we've decided to retrace our trail. My job is to direct the traffic around the bus. It soon turns out that I'm not very good at this, as I barely avoid directing one shiny 4x4 into the path of an oncoming car. Once we've dealt with getting the jam out of the way, we set off down the single-track lane at a brisk walking pace, myself on foot in front and the modern single-deck bus in reverse behind me. We've got half a mile to go, and it takes an age because the bus has to pull in to the grass verge to let the occasional car pass us by.

About half way down the lane and we are rescued. A highways truck pulls up, having just reopened the underbridge we were avoiding. It goes off to position itself as a road block at the bottom of the lane, meaning that we can reverse with impunity. I retake my seat and we set off at high reverse speed (about 5mph) until eventually we are back where our adventure began.

By the time we reach our destination, the driver has lit up a ciggie in the cab. Although technically against the rules, I turn a blind eye with a wry grin: he's got some time to make up on the return leg, plus a whole load of teasing to put up with if news of this little escapade reaches the drivers' canteen.
( divy, Sun 28 Jun 2009, 18:31, Reply)