Travelling in the dark and not a word from anyone

This week’s Mediahuis Irish regional newspapers’ column

Michael Commane

October was a mild month, indeed there were days when I was out and about without a coat. I even spotted a number of people wearing shorts. But there have also been days where there were heavy bouts of rain. And I should know, as I’m out and about on my bicycle most days.

One day two weeks ago I got a serious wetting while cycling. Over the years I have learned, no matter how good the rain-gear is, it’s impossible to keep the rain out when cycling. 

After 67 years of cycling I have decided the best way to cycle in the rain is in shorts and a vest. Mind you I haven’t made a practice of it, though I did see a cyclist last week doing just that.

The day after getting drenched I was leaving my house at the usual time of 7am, heading down to celebrate 7.30am Mass. The heavens had opened, yet again. My rain-gear was still wet from the previous day so I decided to abandon the bicycle and take the bus. It all worked out fine. 

It was still not bright on the way home at 8am. Standing at the bus stop I was delighted I had not cycled, as the rain was still pouring down. A short wait of less than two or three minutes and the bus arrived. 

I had a short journey ahead of me, just two kilometres. I decided to go upstairs. To my disbelief, upstairs was in pitch darkness, yes not a light on. A good few passengers scattered over the seats and not a word from anyone. It was my first time ever to travel in a darkened bus. And no one seemed to be bothered. Most of the passengers were glued to their smart phones.

 

I moved downstairs two stops early, sidled up to the driver’s cab and told the driver in as polite a manner as possible that there were no lights on upstairs. 

He looked at me in amazement, then at the control panel and turned on the lights: ‘yes you are right, I must be asleep but why did no one tell me’, he smiled. I presumed he was from North Africa and I replied that it was in many ways typically Irish for no-one to say a word. We both had a good laugh. He thanked me. 

Next stop was mine. I got off the bus and we both waved to each other. He was a lovely man. 

And then as I walked the few short steps to my house it dawned on me, that would all have been impossible 20 or 30 years. 

Back then, fadó fadó, passengers would have been reading their newspapers or books in hard copy format and the driver would have been told quickly enough that upstairs was in darkness. 

And something else, 20 or 30 years ago I doubt if the driver would have been from North Africa. Nor were there any hybrid electric diesel buses on the streets of Dublin.

Dublin Bus was established 34 years ago when Dublin Bus, Bus Éireann and Irish Rail were set up as three separate companies, with CIÉ remaining as the holding company.

 

If my memory serves me right, anytime I was ever in the city I would see a broken down bus or a rescue truck towing one back to the garage. It’s many years since I have spotted such a spectacle. 

Of course there is no paradise on earth but do we ever realise how good we have it.