Although unbearably crowded at times, a bus drive could be a relieved "sojourn" at other times. Pleasures such as gazing out the window, nestling against the seat, and meditating upon whatever-- all idly-- are a veritable mind massage peculiar to bus drive. Exclusive joys? Indeed. The same act put in other situations-- that is, with you yourself behind the wheel-- would at least lead to several stitches in the hospital. Besides its security, a bus drive, as you may argue, also outshines vehicles like plane, taxi, or even MRT. Technically, the above-mentioned vehicles promise an equal level of safety; nevertheless they are either too hasty to be enjoyable, or too expensive to be affordable. Calculation: An airplane ticket, one-way or more, will cost hundreds of thousands of bus tickets. Cognition: A train ticket, especially on holidays, would often end up merely a standing room through the whole trip. Imagination: A taxi drive, mostly accompanied by penny-fleecing drivers, is often unnecessarily prolonged by circuitous routes. In addition to its casual pace (though too tardy at rush hour) as well as relative security, a bus drive dangles before you its good old past, too. Its crumpled cover posters, slightly dilapidated seats, and hair-grizzled masters tell the story of ages. Sometimes even its smell, hard to pin down one specific flavor to represent all, reveals the value of history and uniqueness. So, next time when you hail a mildly wabbling bus, take off the impatient look on your face, and put on an expectant smile. The diesel-emitting bus comes along with a rare access to an almost extinct moment of relief in hustle-bustle cities. However urgent the time on your wrist tells, change your state of mind for a "voyage" among the streams-- hoot! honk! hoot! honk!-- in this concrete jungle. -- Anything worth doing is worth doing well. --

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