WARNING: This article may contain slight exaggerations.
Having been 17 for four months, I'm probably the only person on planet Earth who hasn't made an attempt to start driving. You're undoubtedly wondering why the hell I'd do that, the simple reason being I'm not really in any rush to show off. As it is, I make do with that oh so beloved entity known as public transport. In order to keep my faith in humanity valid I hope you realize that last bit was sarcastic. Buses are one of those irritating entities that seem to do more harm than good. Lets start with the good, they're big and ferry many people about. Now lets get to the truth. Buses, as anyone who's rode them will know, come in many shapes, colours and sizes. Anyone who has the joys of riding the 384 know this has never been more true. This particular service, with it's sister, the 383, is cursed by some of the oldest, rustiest, uncomfortable wrecks known in Great Britain. We have Stagecoach's recent take over of Bullock's