The summer of the school bus.

When I was 19 years old, I moved to Virginia for the summer to work at a small, Baptist affiliated camp.

Upon arrival, it was determined that of the five counselors (also college students) there, I was the only one who knew how to drive a stick shift. 

Looking back, I wish with my whole heart that I would have lied about my capabilities.

Turns out, being the only person capable of driving a stick shift meant that I was automatically selected to drive the camp’s school bus. 

Not just a van.  Not even a short bus.

Oh no.

It was a full sized late 60s/early 70s Blue Bird school bus. 

After less than 30 minutes of instruction, I was given the keys and told “She’s yours!”

I want all of you to paint a mental picture of this.  As I said yesterday, I struggle driving a Ford Focus without incident.  Please, for a few seconds, channel your energy into imagining me trying to maneuver a 37 foot school bus along narrow, winding, country back roads.

It wasn’t pretty. 

At the entrance to the camp, there was a gate.  Someone would open it each morning and lock it up each night.  As resident bus driver, I had maneuver the massive hunk of steel on wheels through these gate posts, and then make an almost immediate 70° turn. 

I hit one of the posts every single day.  No exaggeration. On a really good day, I would hit more than one post at once.  I’m not sure how that’s even possible, but I managed it.

I’m super glad that I wasn’t held responsible for damages to the bus.

If I can drive a school bus, maybe I can drive a U-Haul after all. 

As long as I don’t have to drive through any gates, I should be good.

Right?

(Side note… I’m actually going to be spending this whole weekend in Nashville with a couple of girls that I drove around on that blasted bus.  They’re driving down from Virginia for the weekend, and I’m beyond excited!  I’m sure that many stories will follow!)