Those buses you took when you were a child, those that passed by your school, those that passed by your childhood home…
You never forget them.
The times you sat at the bus stop, not knowing when the bus would come, not knowing which bus would come – they were quieter days, more peaceful days.
They were always red. Red buses.
They bring back a rush of memories.
The feeder buses, starting from hot and dusty interchanges, that you never really took beyond your house – because what would be the point of that? But on days that you’d fall asleep on the bus, you’d miss your stop, you’d see a different part of your neighbourhood, before that feeder bus looped back to your house.
— When I see them now, they bring back my childhood smells, my childhood memories. I’d remember my dread of going home, the stuffiness because they would rarely be air-conditioned, the jerk of the bus as it pulled out of the interchange.
The trunk services that started from different edges of the island, before they would come to your neighbourhood, your house. Ang Mo Kio. Jurong East. Bedok. Those bus trips would take an hour. You’d always know it was a good time to read a book, on those quiet journeys on the upper deck of the bus. They were almost always double decker buses. It was fun sitting at the top, looking down on the road as they would wind down the major roads of Singapore.
— When I see them now, I think – wow. I’m now walking down a road that I only ever saw from the top of that bus, so many years ago. I’m now that passerby I used to look at and wonder – why is that person walking such a long distance from the bus stop?
The buses that used to come, but were discontinued. Even then, even at that age, it was a sign of the inexorable progress of Singapore. Marching ever forward. Deleting and adding bus services. Changing that reliability that you had come to depend on.
— When I see them now, they feel like a relative I know existed, but only saw once. They should be part of my childhood memories – but they both are, and aren’t. And I wonder – how many more times did your route change, and how many people did you disappoint when your route changed?
The buses that you never used. They went to places you never frequented. And when you did take those buses, you would get lost. I got lost. I got lost on a bus I’d never really taken before from my house. I went all the way to the bus terminal – not a bus interchange. It was in the middle of nowhere. I had to take that bus back, in the opposite direction, to get home. And I ended up not going ot my friend’s house that day – because I spent all Saturday afternoon getting lost.
— When I see them now, there’s still that slight fear. Fear that I still don’t know where they’d go. Fear that if I step on those buses, I’d get lost again, stranded at a remote bus terminal.
The buses that didn’t go to your house – but went to your school. The buses that you’d take from the bus stop outside your school, to another bus stop that you’d have to transfer at. Those buses – they were such a mystery. They began at places you never knew of, and they ended at places you never knew of.
— When I see them now, there’s that curiosity. Why didn’t I try to ride them to their start and end points? If not for school, I would never have taken those buses – so why did fate conspire to have them be part of my childhood memories, even though they belong to the memories of another neighbourhood?
And you know…
I do see some of my childhood buses regularly now. I don’t take any of them. But they make me remember that they were part of my life once.
And now they’re not.
They’re there, but not a part of my life.
And it’s not my fault, or theirs.
It’s just life, and how life changes.
But they’ll always bring a wave of emotion, a tinge of memories, as I remember the times I had on those buses.
You never forget your childhood buses.
And I hope that my childhood buses don’t forget me too.
Image credit: Singapore Buses
This is an original story on marcusgohmarcusgoh.com.
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