Recollections 1

I've decided to add periodic recollections from my past for two main reasons - firstly as they may be of interest and secondly to prevent my memory from deteriorating. If I record my memories then when my mind fails, I have something to rely on.
I was born and grew up in Kent in a large town just south of London. I moved up here to Lincolnshire in 2002 but I had been backwards and forwards between my home down south and my place of work in Peterborough for about a year beforehand.
I remember much of my younger life being spent on public transport. My parents didn't drive and had no desire to do so. The buses ran very close to home and there was a stop at both ends of our road. Therefore, most of my memories from that period contain buses for one reason or another. Every day involved normally at least two bus trips. They were all red back then and old - RT's and RM's - but reliable and classically British. It's hard to understand nowadays but they were invariably smoke-filled, especially when it was cold or raining - not from the engine fumes but from smokers. Back then you could smoke on buses. Hard to believe nowadays but true.
We would go shopping, visit family and sometimes I would just ride about visiting different places. It was cheap and as I got older, I was able to have my own bus pass. This was a pass to freedom and I was convinced it could take me anywhere.
I used to love sitting at the front. In those days, I was just behind the driver and I had a clear view so I could see everything - the road ahead and what the driver was doing to make this beautiful machine move. I used to love the smell. You could smell the warm oil, the diesel fumes, the hot engine. It smelled like a bus. Not like nowadays - everything is cleaned-up, they may as well be electric. I love them. If one looked slightly different, I noticed and I remembered, right down to the smallest detail.
In the evening, I used to walk up the road to meet my Dad from work. He would sometimes get off there depending on the bus he had caught and then walk down the road. I would get to the stop early. I used to like doing that as I could see more buses. I would see the bus in the far distance and as it slowly came into view, I could tell if my Dad could be on it by its route number. Sometimes the bus would pull up and he wouldn't get off but I knew he'd be on one of them eventually. I remember carrying his case for him. I loved those times. I remember them well...