BUStin’ a move

Just a quick note about something today–I should have been feeling this way a looong time ago, and I’m scared to admit it, because  I might jinx my bus luck, but I felt pretty (um, what’s a non-pardon my French way to convey this? umm, I’ll go with) awesome today. I’ve driven teens home on me own before, but today I dropped three girls off all over the place, got back in one piece. On my own, I accomplished a wee something I really never thought I’d ever be able to do. I was rocking out to Cool FM and zooming through Springfield, Falls and Ballysillian’s mess of prams, bin lorries, double-laned backwards roundabouts, and flashing yellow “proceed with caution” lights.

Finn and the Red Hand of Ulster, which is another story I'll have to tell someday.

On another note of retrogression, we got a new bus this week, which we’re calling Finn. He’s sort of named after Finn McCool (or if you’re a super N. Irish overachiever  it’s Fionn mac Cumhaill), who is a legendary Ulster chieftan giant, and again, I’m trying to not use my salty French here, awesome guy. Finn’s also named after Patsy’s Farm dog. He’s an English Spaniel, and one of the sweetest tempered dogs I’ve ever met. I’d gladly take him home! And Finn’s last namesake is of course, Finn from Glee!

However, I’m irrationally afraid of Finn and his huge posterior. Plus he’s the new bus, and is of course, the Project Leader’s baby. I don’t want to wreck the new Mercedes!!!

So now, me and the other ex-new bus, Max are tight, but I’m loathing the day I have to drive Finn…he’s just too big for Belfast’s irrationally tiny streets.

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