8:16) Susan Galleymore 08-SEP-97 19:47

Ah, the memories of the yellow school bus . . . My brothers and I commuted 20 miles each way to high school -- from our rural home in eastern South Africa to the big city. The bus was generally full of kids and during the afternoon ride home -- it took almost two hours to deliver everybody and we were the last stop so we saw it all -- anything could happen. Like the time the "big boys" dropped a stink-bomb and all the passengers fought for a window to hang out of, laughing while sucking in huge gasps of fresh air. The bus driver was furious with us. The next day, probably because the first time had been such a big hit for all of us, they dropped another stink-bomb. This time the driver screamed at us and intimidated us to such a degree that we were too terrified to open the windows, then he drove to the nearest police station and got out of the bus himself while forcing us to suffer through the long, smelly moments. Finally, he got back into the bus and drove off with all of us in dead School life and the life carried out on the yellow school bus was very different there . . . .