The Bus Leaves in 5 Minutes

For the most part, it always happened in the pre-dawn hours. You know, the time of day when the moon has almost faded from the sky... it’s still dark out, but birds are chirping and the sky is starting to get a slight tinge of a dark purplish, pink. That’s the time of day it would normally happen.

It wasn’t on a regular schedule, it wasn’t something you could predict... not like every month or every 4 weeks. No, it was random, but well planned by the executors. The experiences as a whole were different; the vehicle changed every few years... but the start was always the same...

As your body began stirring... awakening before your mind... in those pre-dawn hours... the voice would boom: “THE BUS LEAVES IN 5 MINUTES!”

What, what was that. Did you hear that? Yes, get up, get up. Again: “THE BUS LEAVES IN 5 MINUTES!”

Bare feet began hitting the floor... different sizes creating different types of thuds. If one was downstairs they could hear them scrambling. Running from room to room. Sometimes yelling. “I CAN’T FIND MY SHOES. WHAT SHOULD I WEAR? HURRY UP SLOW-POKE. GET OUT OF MY WAY. I NEED THE BATHROOM —GET OUT!”

“THE BUS LEAVES IN 3, YES YOU HEARD ME 3 MINUTES!”

Inevitably, the next to the second youngest, the one they nicknamed “Windy” because she talked too much, would ask (as she always did), "Where are we going?"

"THE BUS LEAVES IN 1 MINUTE... IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHERE WE ARE GOING... BE ON THE BUS. OTHERWISE, STAY BEHIND AND YOU’LL FIND OUT WHEN THE OTHERS GET BACK." Why did Windy ask, you’d think she would learn at some point... the answer was always the same.

This is how my childhood adventures would begin. This is how Joe and Proxita Beckelheimer would introduce their children to the wonders of their surroundings.

Throughout the years, “THE BUS” took us:

To the lakes of Ohio where we frolicked in the waters (in swimsuits that had been packed ahead of time, unaware to us, and hidden in THE BUS), played games on the beach and ate fried chicken that my parents had gotten up at 4 AM to cook.

THE BUS took us to explore the 7 caves in the hills of Ohio. The ONLY time my parents didn’t adequately plan for provisions and on the way home, my mother had to use her headscarf as a diaper for my baby brother.

And to the woods deep in the hills near the Ohio River where, we collected souvenirs from nature to take to school: hedge apples, acorns, wildflowers. It was on one of these hikes, that my father took a “wrong turn” and the only way for us to get back to the car, without turning around and hiking back 2 hours, was to walk across a train trestle. (Luckily my mother and baby brother had stayed back at the picnic site).

So it was my dad, older brother, twin sisters... and me. They were all so brave (or it appeared that way, later, years later, I found out that they were as scared as I... they just didn’t choose to show it in the way that a typical 6-year-old would... by crying hysterically. "I can’t cross that... there are holes between the trestles. No way daddy, look how far down it goes... I’ll fall through.").

Okay, my Dad’s challenge number 1. Convince me that I would not die and that I was coordinated enough to take big strides from one trestle to another, without falling through. My dad was a great convincer. Now challenge number 2. But Daddy, I can’t cross the trestle, what if a train comes, we’ll have no place to go and we’ll all die... crying hysterically at this point. But my father remained calm, and did what most parents would have at this point: stretched the truth. Windy, a train hasn’t come across this trestle in years... now let’s get going.

Fine, hey this was kind of fun. We’re all singing (a strategy to keep me from looking down). When all of a sudden as we’re halfway across... a sound echoes through the distance. What was that... Nah, I keep singing. My father picks up the pace and starts singing louder. Wow, daddy is getting into this... why he’s almost skipping from trestle to trestle. We’re getting way ahead of my brothers and sisters. He’s making a game out of this... As we reach the end and I’m so happy. I look up to see the fear on my father’s face. Hurry he’s yelling to my siblings... The noise... the whistle gets louder... oh no, then it dawns on me. Hurry he yells. If you’re not going to make it, go to the cement whatever you call it and stand very still. But with each blast of the whistle, their pace got faster and faster. They were leaping from one track to another and then jumping to the hill where we stood. Just about that time, the big train, the one that never came, crossed the track. This was an adventure that I think my dad would have preferred we didn’t tell my mother about, but of course, we did and I think my mother and dad had a few words about it later.

Yes, I remember all the adventures... but mostly I remember all the excitement that bubbled up as fast as my feet were scrambling out of bed. I now realize the planning, the effort and most of all the love that went into those adventures.

My beloved bus drivers are now gone, but those adventures will stay with me forever and facilitated my love of travel. A gift I truly cherish and one I tried to pass down to my own family.

Just ask my children if they’ve ever been awakened by a booming voice shouting "THE BUS LEAVES IN 5 MINUTES" and watch the twinkle in their eye.