Bus drivers develop a sort of nervousness, which makes them easy to scare.  Should you suddenly yell “WHOA” behind them, they will overreact: jump up, shout back and of course then be angry.  This is the reason why their colleagues will insist on doing it all the time.  Some are of course more susceptible than others.

This tendency could explain why Brian Fox once left his bus and just ran away.  His nickname was Foksie (sometimes Jakkals, which is a translation of Fox) – but really he did look a little like a fox.  He had a broad face with very sharp features and combed his abundance of yellow hair right back.  Everything about him betrayed nervousness.

One day his routine shift bus was not available and he had to take out another bus for the day.  This made him grumpy to start with.  Unlike some of the others, he was a neat person.  He always wore the right uniform with shoes shining and tie tied just right.  He also saw to it that his bus was signed off for any small problem – this he usually did before he himself had his off weekend – which ensured incidentally that no-one else would have the honour of having “his” bus assigned to them.

The bus he took out that day had one small peculiarity, which the electricians just could not fix permanently.  For passengers to ring the bell, the bus had two black strips along both sides of the bus – looking like those flat liquorice strips that you bought in ruler lengths.  The problem was that the bell sometimes rang without anybody pushing on these strips, which caused misunderstandings between driver and passengers.

Most of the drivers knew about the problem, but Foksie, who almost never took out another bus, did not know this.

On Sundays, which this day was, the normal routine of trips changed somewhat.   There were no school trips and you could normally take the day in your stride.  On Sundays you could almost read a whole novel between trips.  Especially if the Rebecca Street Cemetery  trip was on your shift.

Abvove Left Image source: 

Die Beeld

(modern day volunteers cleaning

up the old Rebecca Street cemetery)

This trip only ran on Sundays.  Most passengers got on at church square and stayed on the bus until the last stop, which was inside the cemetery.  You then had to wait in the cemetery for an hour, while they went about putting flowers on a grave.  That Sunday there were no passengers for Rebecca Street Cemetery.

Bus drivers are quite happy to drive a bus without passengers, since these can sometimes be quite bothersome.  An hour at the cemetery is long and the mourners are done well before the hour is over.  Usually these were old ladies, who would make small talk with the bus driver, which is ok, but mostly it was better if there was no-one to bother you.

Foksie sat reading his newspaper, when suddenly the bell began to ring.  He looked up a bit irritated.  The door was open and he was parked at the terminus – any passenger could get off the bus as they please.  That was when he remembered:  there was no-one on the bus.  He let out a piercing yell, took his money bag and ran.