My father was a decent sort of guy, fought with the RAF on Malta and on the continent following D day.
Came home on leave after years on Malta ( gaunt from the food shortages) managed to get up into Yorkshire and only had to get a bus to Rothwell, near Leeds.
The last bus to Leeds.... and he ran for it, (in uniform) but the driver saw him coming and floored the throttle while making eye contact with him as it pulled out of Wakefield.
He ran and was inches from the rail at the back.
He walked most of the way then, getting a lift from a market trader for the last mile or so.
Many years later as he was giving up car driving around 2001, he told me
" I never let a Bus out from a stop since 1945"
We all howled with laughter and disbelief that this caring and generous bloke could do that.
But when you reflect on his suffering and risk to his life, particularly on Malta, contrasted with the civilian bus driver...
I don`t think his generation would have been anywhere near as tolerant at some of the bad driving that we have discussed recently, do you?
All I can remember is that as a kid, we effectively had the `Armed Forces` as neighbours and in our own homes.
A Commando, Army Major, and Airforce, my mates father was a Tank commander in the Western desert.
The direct consequence being their cars in those post war years were not at risk from Yobs.
You Can`t hang on to the past, but.......... I can still taste the security.
Regards
Edited by Pugugly {P} on 12/01/2008 at 21:13
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I dare say the modern equivalent of your dad's response would be: 'I've got an unfair speeding ticket, that's the last time I co-operate with the police'.
Unfortunate, but unsurprising.
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It sounds as though your dad is no longer with us but, for what it's worth, he's certainly a hero to his family and, in a funny sort of way, to us as well. The bus driver was just a cretin (and that's probably insulting one or two cretins!!)
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My Dad's best pal had been a WW2 commando. Years later, when in his 50's he was still a formidable man. He lived with his wife in a remote house in the Scottish Borders. One Saturday night they had been out to dinner and returned to find a thief who had burgled their house and was in the process of loading up their other car with his swag. My father's friend ( let's call him Fred ) got hold of him and "arrested" him. Well, his wife called the police and duly the local bobby arrived. By this time the burglar was under one of Fred's arms kicking and yelling like a naughty child but in no danger of escaping. Fred had got hold of a rope and was threatening to hang him ! The police officer, who was also ex-forces, and knew the criminal, pretended to consider this option for a while having realised that Fred was merely "putting the frighteners" on the thief. Of course he didn't let things go any further and due process ensued. We subsequently learned that the miscreant having paid his debt to society went on to be a law abiding family man and spent the rest of his days working on a local farm. He was also apparently heard to say in the local pub that "ye dinnae want tae upset the old guy at the big hoose doon the lane !"
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Would say that wartime bus driver was in need of a sound thrashing, and i hope sincerely that your father caught up with him at some point later.
I applaud the way he didn't forget either.
I understand your feelings of security, but was it more a case of knowing who you were and knowing your place in the world.
I remember well that knowledge of having complete faith in my parents, but not only them, the masters and mistresses at school came from that same world of honour and truth and decency.
Sometimes my sister and i reminisce about our dear father and his sheer obstinacy, which of course passed with him (hmm swmbo doesn't agree).
Is that what happens on the roads now, just a reflection of the dishonourable and selfish and uncaring way that people treat one another.
No fortune or power or celebrity status to be gained by good manners or treating others with respect.
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It's a hobby-horse of mine, and I won't go on about it at length, but I'm sure that a lot of this change is due to TV. I don't mean the violence - just that children watch TV so much that their lives are all input, and very little output.
If a child spends time joining things like Cubs / Brownies / Scouts / Guides etc, a church choir, youth groups etc, or even plays with friends or reads books, this demands an element of giving as well as receiving, and the young person grows up to understand his/her responsibilities as well as rights. TV-watching children grow up to be TV-watching adults with little or no resources. (I'm not of course saying they shouldn't watch it at all - just in moderation.)
I may be wrong but I think that's the change in society that Oilrag is putting his finger on.
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My dear old departed Dad who served in WW11, exhibited a similar 'vice' when it came to VWs - he would never be 'beaten' by one. If it meant cranking up the old Consul above & beyond the call of duty to a place where the sound of valve bounce was only exceeded by howls of terror from the passengers - so be it! In fairness though , it never ended in tears - often just enlivened an otherwise dull journey.
Edited by woodbines on 14/01/2008 at 01:57
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used to know a retired major who would never consider buying a japanese car. jag.
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My wifes uncle who was interned in a Japanese POW camp was the same . He'd be turning in his grave if he saw me in a Honda.
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Back then buses were crowded so Bus Company did not need business. (Driver may have failed the Army medical, so hence the grudge)
Nowdays, many country buses are empty, so even if you eye the Bus driver miles from a stop,he may slow down and try to see if you really want to get on.
Caught one of these buses not to long ago, Driver was just pleased to see someone under 70 and he could dust the cobwebs off his change as I didn't have a buspass.
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MIL won't have anything to do with anything French (including cars) "they gave in too easily". Quite happy to travel to Austria and Germany though!
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We all bought bikes at 16. Two of us had small Honda`s but a mate turned up on a BSA Bantam.
Turned out he couldnt have a Japanese bike. His father had been at the fall of Singapore.
I can even now remember where we were standing as he told us some detail and if we could have afforded to swap and buy a Bantam we would have done so.
Next bike was a Triumph twin at 17. But a Yamaha SR500 in my thirties as the memory of the story softened with the years.
My Old Man was pleased to get a Volkswagen in his later years. Getting some metal back was how he saw it.
regards
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