I like catching buses in the dark, early morning. I mean buses that carry you substantial distances, between cities, not commuters to work. When I was a kid my parents would regularly drive me and my three sisters 10 hours down country (North Island, NZ) to visit family. One time, because our vehicles were never fancy, our van broke down in a two-bit rural town in the middle of nowhere and hours from home. I loved this trip because I remember boarding a bus in the middle of the night and journeying up the country in total blackness as we were far from street lights. The only visible thing being the fluorescent indicator strips that ran along the floor to mark the isle; these orange gold lines and the quietness or traveling through the night. I wonder if that’s how Little t felt on the Bolt Bus that took us to Seattle, from Vancouver, and back again on our way to and from New York. Empty seats and hot coffee and the temperature somehow feeling colder when you drive into the first sunlight of dawn.
