Phrases like ‘end of the line’ and ‘last stop’ imply a more extensive finality. In reality, this is my little bus shelter just up the road from my house. It’s the last stop – the nightmare run for beginning drivers with hairpin turns down the twisty mountain road. I had one Maori woman driver break into tears one day – I was the last passenger and it was her first time on her own.
The road is quite narrow and for some unknown reason they run a full size city bus down here. Other cars and pedestrians blanch in fear when they see a massive bus approaching. And I’ve been terrified being a passenger in both car and bus. As for being a pedestrian – I rather like that the bus driver seeing me walk will often stop and ask if I want a ride the rest of the way down the hill.
Scary! Probably it’s even dicey walking…knowing vehicles are uncomfortable.
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It is, or seems to be… even though Kiwi drivers are pretty awful, there are few accidents on this road – though lots and lots of near misses. We do have footpaths, so narrow though I don’t think they really count – I have fretted about being sideswiped by a car mirror, with no place really to go other than down a steep drop into the bush…
notice the yellow lines on the road? They are brand, spanking new – as if dividing the one lane road into two would make it wider – or something…
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Sounds like Frost’s “The Road Not Taken,” literally and figuratively!
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I guess it’s a road ‘less’ taken… which is how I like it…
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Reminds me of being on a bus in the Philippines going up the mountains to Baguio. Even though I was quite young, I was old enough to be scared.
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