MAPLE CREEK MEMORIES X
BIG YELLOW SCHOOL BUS
Part I
I began attending junior high school when I was just eleven years old--well, eleven and a half, let's say, back in the Dark Ages, 1953. We lived about eight or ten miles away from the school, but, due to the route they had the bus run, it turned out to be more like fifteen or twenty. Depending upon what year, and what time of year, the route ran something like this--starting at the head of Maple Creek to the hard road, north to Ferguson Ridge and out it to the old schoolhouse/church, turn around and back out to the hard road, north to Sandy Road, east on Sandy Road to town--just a nice early morning ride. The route reversed on the way home. This was a total of about twenty miles one way.
Some of the other routes we traveled were rather more extensive. One was the same as the first except when we reached the burg of Sandy, we turned left and went over Blue Town Road to Blue Creek, went up Blue Creek and turned and came back out to Blue Town Road then on to the spur road , right to the four lane , across it to Cabbage Heights and following it to town. This route encompassed more like twenty-six to twenty-seven miles. Our bus was rated for 66 seats. By the time we reached the junior high school, we had over 100 on board.
One other route, one that didn't last very long thankfully, was to start at the schoolhouse/church on Ferguson Ridge to the hard road, up Maple Creek and return, back down the hard road to Upper Buck Road, up and back, then to the foot of Dunns Hill, turn around and back to Sandy Road, to Blue Creek Road to Blue Creek, up and back, to the spur road to the four lane , across Cabbage Heights and on to the town. This added another five miles, so on that route we traveled about thirty-two to thirty five miles each way. And to do all this, we only added about seven kids.
But the best route, and the one we normally ran was the one just mentioned except that we did not go down Blue Creek Road but went through Sandy, crossed the river and straight on into town. This way, we had only about sixty kids on the bus by the time we got to town. But it took more time as we had to unload and walk across the Sandy bridge, then reload to continue.
After a run like that with all those rowdy--and we were--kids, the driver also drove a second route (usually the Mudcat Hollow run) for the late schedule kids. They came to school an hour later and left an hour later. School started at about eight, we left at three and late schedule left at four.
On late April/early May morning in 1954, we were on the Sandy Road and were starting around the curve above the railroad tracks, near where the country club entrance is now. Probably fifty or so kids on the bus, from seventh through twelfth grades. Me and three brothers, at least three of our cousins the whole gang we hung around with, were all on the bus. I was sitting on the outside window seat (read that as passenger side), my next older brother beside me and his friend beside him on the aisle. Directly across the aisle were another of my brothers and his friend.
BANG! SNAP! CRASH! and the bus starts over the hill. The driver saw enough to get it angled right so it wouldn't go all the way to the bottom of the hill, he just kind of laid it into a thicket of bushes on a flat before he was knocked out by the mirror coming through the window at him. The bus was held up by a large oak tree that was on the down side of the thicket.
Broken glass all over the place, it is dark, and a ton of weight is on top of me--little old me who might have weighed eighty pounds then. As the bus was rolling over I was raising up and twisting to get to the aisle. Didn't make it, of course, and was pressed back under all that weight.
Screaming and crying. Light beginning to show now. A big guy helping to pull me up and out of the crash. Half-dazed, wondering what happened, how many hurt, how many killed. Voices--"what happened to--and name the kid," "and what happened to--" "where is-" "you are bleeding--my God, your arm, its a bloody mess, here let me tie it up for you----get out of the road everybody--has anybody called the cops--how about an ambulance--she's hurt real bad--you need to get stitches in that arm, too--everybody get back to that wide place at the curve--somebody get around that curve and stop traffic-- my Mom called and the ambulance is on the way, so are the state police--they know at school, we called them too--they are sending another bus and help."
Confusion.
My oldest brother putting me in a car with the janitor from the high school and the ride to the hospital. Waiting in the emergency room all by myself while my cousin is lying in the next room and God knows how bad she is hurt. She isn't even conscious. Having to help the nurse fill out papers and forms and names and, no, we don't have a telephone so you can't call my parents. Finally they sew me up and it looks like a 'V' on the back of my left elbow and the joking that if you were on the right side of the bus your right arm should be hurt, not your left. My cousin's parents are here now and they look worried, really worried, but there is nothing I can say to help them, but I just know she's going to make it. God, she has to.
Emory, the janitor, finally got me and took me home. We all went to school the next day. Except Anne, my cousin. She lay in the hospital for weeks and finally came home. She was back in school when the next year started, graduated, became a nurse, married and moved away from the area. Had three or four kids and passed away in 2007 at her home in Georgia.
Our school bus bit the dust that day. Old Number 90 would not roll the roads anymore. She was a real mess when they pulled her out of that briarpatch. So we got a new bus, right? Sure. They reactivated 89 and we rode her for a year or two until the board could afford to get a newer bus. Same driver. He said he wouldn't let a wreck stop him. And he didn't. He drove for another two years and then retired. And he crept around that curve. The day of the wreck, the bus had had all wheels on the pavement, which was pretty wide in that curve, but from that day on he put the outboard wheels on the dirt to go around it.
Except for one or two day substitutes, we only had three regular drivers on that route while I was going to school in town. The fellow who had the wreck drove all through my junior high years, then a one year driver and finally a two year driver--who actually drove the bus route for about ten years before it was all over. Neither of the two replacements had a personality to match that of the first.
Part I
I began attending junior high school when I was just eleven years old--well, eleven and a half, let's say, back in the Dark Ages, 1953. We lived about eight or ten miles away from the school, but, due to the route they had the bus run, it turned out to be more like fifteen or twenty. Depending upon what year, and what time of year, the route ran something like this--starting at the head of Maple Creek to the hard road, north to Ferguson Ridge and out it to the old schoolhouse/church, turn around and back out to the hard road, north to Sandy Road, east on Sandy Road to town--just a nice early morning ride. The route reversed on the way home. This was a total of about twenty miles one way.
Some of the other routes we traveled were rather more extensive. One was the same as the first except when we reached the burg of Sandy, we turned left and went over Blue Town Road to Blue Creek, went up Blue Creek and turned and came back out to Blue Town Road then on to the spur road , right to the four lane , across it to Cabbage Heights and following it to town. This route encompassed more like twenty-six to twenty-seven miles. Our bus was rated for 66 seats. By the time we reached the junior high school, we had over 100 on board.
One other route, one that didn't last very long thankfully, was to start at the schoolhouse/church on Ferguson Ridge to the hard road, up Maple Creek and return, back down the hard road to Upper Buck Road, up and back, then to the foot of Dunns Hill, turn around and back to Sandy Road, to Blue Creek Road to Blue Creek, up and back, to the spur road to the four lane , across Cabbage Heights and on to the town. This added another five miles, so on that route we traveled about thirty-two to thirty five miles each way. And to do all this, we only added about seven kids.
But the best route, and the one we normally ran was the one just mentioned except that we did not go down Blue Creek Road but went through Sandy, crossed the river and straight on into town. This way, we had only about sixty kids on the bus by the time we got to town. But it took more time as we had to unload and walk across the Sandy bridge, then reload to continue.
After a run like that with all those rowdy--and we were--kids, the driver also drove a second route (usually the Mudcat Hollow run) for the late schedule kids. They came to school an hour later and left an hour later. School started at about eight, we left at three and late schedule left at four.
On late April/early May morning in 1954, we were on the Sandy Road and were starting around the curve above the railroad tracks, near where the country club entrance is now. Probably fifty or so kids on the bus, from seventh through twelfth grades. Me and three brothers, at least three of our cousins the whole gang we hung around with, were all on the bus. I was sitting on the outside window seat (read that as passenger side), my next older brother beside me and his friend beside him on the aisle. Directly across the aisle were another of my brothers and his friend.
BANG! SNAP! CRASH! and the bus starts over the hill. The driver saw enough to get it angled right so it wouldn't go all the way to the bottom of the hill, he just kind of laid it into a thicket of bushes on a flat before he was knocked out by the mirror coming through the window at him. The bus was held up by a large oak tree that was on the down side of the thicket.
Broken glass all over the place, it is dark, and a ton of weight is on top of me--little old me who might have weighed eighty pounds then. As the bus was rolling over I was raising up and twisting to get to the aisle. Didn't make it, of course, and was pressed back under all that weight.
Screaming and crying. Light beginning to show now. A big guy helping to pull me up and out of the crash. Half-dazed, wondering what happened, how many hurt, how many killed. Voices--"what happened to--and name the kid," "and what happened to--" "where is-" "you are bleeding--my God, your arm, its a bloody mess, here let me tie it up for you----get out of the road everybody--has anybody called the cops--how about an ambulance--she's hurt real bad--you need to get stitches in that arm, too--everybody get back to that wide place at the curve--somebody get around that curve and stop traffic-- my Mom called and the ambulance is on the way, so are the state police--they know at school, we called them too--they are sending another bus and help."
Confusion.
My oldest brother putting me in a car with the janitor from the high school and the ride to the hospital. Waiting in the emergency room all by myself while my cousin is lying in the next room and God knows how bad she is hurt. She isn't even conscious. Having to help the nurse fill out papers and forms and names and, no, we don't have a telephone so you can't call my parents. Finally they sew me up and it looks like a 'V' on the back of my left elbow and the joking that if you were on the right side of the bus your right arm should be hurt, not your left. My cousin's parents are here now and they look worried, really worried, but there is nothing I can say to help them, but I just know she's going to make it. God, she has to.
Emory, the janitor, finally got me and took me home. We all went to school the next day. Except Anne, my cousin. She lay in the hospital for weeks and finally came home. She was back in school when the next year started, graduated, became a nurse, married and moved away from the area. Had three or four kids and passed away in 2007 at her home in Georgia.
Our school bus bit the dust that day. Old Number 90 would not roll the roads anymore. She was a real mess when they pulled her out of that briarpatch. So we got a new bus, right? Sure. They reactivated 89 and we rode her for a year or two until the board could afford to get a newer bus. Same driver. He said he wouldn't let a wreck stop him. And he didn't. He drove for another two years and then retired. And he crept around that curve. The day of the wreck, the bus had had all wheels on the pavement, which was pretty wide in that curve, but from that day on he put the outboard wheels on the dirt to go around it.
Except for one or two day substitutes, we only had three regular drivers on that route while I was going to school in town. The fellow who had the wreck drove all through my junior high years, then a one year driver and finally a two year driver--who actually drove the bus route for about ten years before it was all over. Neither of the two replacements had a personality to match that of the first.
posted by tanstaafl | 1:00 PM
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