The Bus Driver

When I was nineteen years old, my mother and I moved to Detroit, Michigan, United States. I did not want to leave the church I was attending, which was quite a distance away, so each Sabbath, I would take a bus to Ecorse, Michigan.

The bus stop was at a corner where an industrial building was located.

The site was fenced in and locked, and it took up an entire city block.

Because it was the weekend, the site was closed, and no one was there.

The bus schedule was slow on the weekends, so I would pace back and forth along the fence while watching the street for it to come. There was never anyone else in sight.

One Sabbath, a dark blue pickup truck pulled up and parked right in front of me.

When I looked at the driver’s face, I knew he was up to no good.

I kept looking for the bus, but it was nowhere in sight.

The driver got out of the truck. I kept watching for a bus as I said a quick prayer. The driver started to walk around the truck in a threatening manner.

His face had a menacing, evil look. I felt terrified.

I looked once more for the bus, and suddenly there it was—with the door open! I quickly jumped aboard, looked out the window, and watched as the truck drove away.

Usually there were people on this bus, but on that Sabbath, it was empty.

The driver looked like all the other bus drivers on this route.

They were mostly friendly, older men who were about to retire.

This one was no exception. He smiled as I climbed on.

Although I felt sure he saw what had happened, he did not say anything. Instead, he talked in a soothing tone, and before I knew it, my mind was distracted from the thoughts of the evil-looking truck driver. The bus driver asked me which stop I wanted, and I told him. Because the bus was empty, we made no stops along the way.

When we arrived at my stop, I got off and walked alongside the bus to the red light. When I looked back to watch the bus go down the street—no bus was in sight! I looked up and down the street in both directions. No, I was not mistaken.

The bus had disappeared. God sent an angel, in the form of an old bus driver, to deliver me when I needed it most.

Ruth Cantrell