Wyn Drabble’s bad bus dreams: Recalling the struggles of travel in the 60s and 70s

Combine a winding, hilly road with a hot day and you were trapped in a metal torture tube, writes Wyn Drabble. Photo / 123rf

Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, writer, public speaker and musician. He is based in Hawke’s Bay.

OPINION

I realise the content of my weekend bad bus dream will mean something to only a small percentage of readers but, for them, I’m sticking with it.

My earliest memory of a bus is the Oamaru school bus in the early 50s. My memory has it as dark red and cream but, because time can play tricks with memory, it might have been green. It was driven by Mr Shanks (though it could have been Mrs Green). Even at 5, I rated Mr Shanks as a very old man so it’s probably safe to assume he is currently deceased.

The bus itself – it could have been a Commer, Studebaker, Bedford, or Ford – possibly survives somewhere as a museum piece. It wasn’t one of your straight-down-at-the-front conveyances; it had a protruding bonnet and to access the pistons, cylinders, spark plugs and rubber bands, I think you opened up the panels on either side.

The front door was controlled by a triumph of contemporary leverage. The driver – without leaving his seat, mind you – pulled a handle which was connected by long metal rods to the door and, as if by magic, the door closed. (Remember that this was the age when department stores had little barrels which whizzed across aerial cables to take money to the cashier.)

The memories of that bus are mostly positive. For the bad dream bus, we must fast forward to the late 60s and even, I fear, into the early 70s. If your budget didn’t run to boarding one of NAC’s DC3s, Fokker Friendships or Vickers Viscounts, you generally had two choices: walk or board a Bedford bus operated by New Zealand Railways Road Services.

These were wheeled horrors. In a Canterbury nor’wester there was no relief from the heat. Only a small section of window slid open, admitting enough hot air to make matters worse.

But even more unbearable was the labouring of the engine, especially on a winding, hilly road. The driver worked his way through the gears (“You can do it, you can do it!”) and it may well have been at this time that the first slow vehicle lanes appeared on our roads. Passengers could not help but feel the engine’s effort and tire from it.

I don’t know how many gears these vehicles had but the driver seemed to use what could officially be described as “a lot”. To add even more there was a little knob on the side of the gearstick and, by activating it, the driver appeared to find even more gears though never enough to eliminate the labouring.

Combine a winding, hilly road with a hot day and you were trapped in a metal torture tube. Even the luggage stowed below must have felt queasy.

I woke from my bad dream and in full consciousness was then able to remember the next big bus development, the arrival of the Midland Starliner. This rear-engined Leyland Panther connected Christchurch and Dunedin at a new level of luxury and featured such modern developments as air-conditioning, automatic transmission and air suspension.

It even boasted a radio-telephone system which enabled the driver to book a taxi ahead of time for passengers who were alighting at any of the intermediary stops. Imagine! This was a veritable step up from money barrels on aerial cables and driver-operated door levers. (My favourite stop was Timaru because the Starliner stopped right outside the Zenith Milk Bar where you could buy a cream freeze!)

So, to the small target audience who remember all this, I apologise if I have rekindled your own travel horrors of this period. On the positive side, it must at least have made you appreciate the more modern forms of transport you now enjoy. Like driverless cars.

Possibly the very bus of the earlier positive memories. (“No copyright” the site said.)