Is it lucky for me that I don’t have to drive much? I think maybe. Sometimes (often) I miss the Forest for the Trees. No matter how you slice it, New England has beautiful roads- emphatically not because of the pavement. But for the heart of the matter the drag cuts through.
Oftener than I like to admit, I have to stop, breathe and remind myself not to become my father – grumbling at the audacity of a country bus driver doing their job. The curse of the eternal middle class. “Don’t they know time is money?” As if the bus driver hasn’t got to clutch his pearls whenever the taxman cometh.
Still it goes. I was stuck behind a bus, after going so far as to realise my favourite hick owned filling station had all been ripped up. Mood: dour. As I stared into back of the bus, there…
View original post 786 more words