I've had plenty of different bus drivers in my time as a commuter. Some are cheerful and pleasant and love to talk to their passengers. Others are wretched and miserable and respond to a courteous "thank you" with "okay" as they hit the gas before you've completely stepped from the bus to the sidewalk.
Some feel the need to express their individuality with the hole punch they use (The bus pass I buy for Westmoreland Transit is for ten trips, and has the numbers 1-10 on it, which are punched by the driver each time you board). One driver uses a star hole punch, while another inexplicably uses one shaped like a bone. I picture them standing in the crafts/scrapbooking aisle at Staples trying to decide on just the right hole punch shape to define their personalities.
One bus driver frequently pulls up to my stop in the afternoon eating a bowl of Wendy's chili and listening to oldies on a radio he has apparently brought from home and placed in the seat behind him.
It takes all kinds to drive a bus apparently, and I've certainly seen many of those kinds facilitating my commute each day.
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