Free Seats

After a 1000 mile journey, never knowing what to expect, I parked the 40 foot long yellow bus in Lee's driveway. The neighborhood children were in awe. They played for about a week inside the ghost like vehicle with modern childhood fantasies of the 21st century. They called it the magic bus as they pushed every button and flicked every switch but the grimy dragon finally gave way to other amusements. The child's play was over. It was time for me to get busy and dig in. This is where reality meets the fantasy. The real challenge begins. The first chore would be divesting the aged yellow beast of her seats. Seats that passed every safety issue in the world. Seats that were made to keep our precious children alive and well. Seats that were attached to the body as if it would survive an atomic bomb blast. If only I could dream them out of the bus.

After reading plenty about the rigors of seat removal and assessing my own situation plus my friend Lee had volunteered to help , I went with using an impact driver beneath the bus while he held a ratchet on the head of the bolt above. There were over 100 nuts to take off. My arm felt like rubber after six hours not to speak of the ones that were unreachable or rusted beyond the use of wrenches and sockets. It was a personal physical challenge. I was thinking: "Who needs to work out at the gym if you do work like this?" I think life was teaching me that it's better to use exercise before attacking the nuts and bolts as a means to decrease the pain and ensuing agony. I'm putting exercise on my list for tomorrow. Luckily, I have some pain meds because I know, tomorrow, my twisted back will cause me to walk like cro-magnon man . With the meds, I'll walk upright and no one will know; proud to be a bus seat remover extraordinaire.

For the incorrigible bolts, I resorted to a steel grinding tool. They didn't have a chance to defeat me. It was like rocket launcher versus stone axe. As I bared down on the heads, the sparks flew and the noise blared deafening. One time, the plywood subfloor started smoldering but in the end, "Mission Accomplished". Lee stood fire watch with hose in hand. Baton Rouge water pressure is high. It was a good backup to disaster. No really, no bullshit, mission accomplished for real. The bus seats, black with grime and dirt from a few years of life in the bus graveyard not to speak of the refuse from thousands of children who had found small secret places to stash their garbage, we emerged covered in an oily greasy film but with a sense of accomplishment as the seats were now out in front of the bus stacked neatly to attract the usual scavengers before the garbage trucks came early in the morning. Bus seats versus man; we won. We raised the flag of victory and downed 16 ounces of Gatorade. I felt like a victorious soldier of fortune. Short term goals kick ass man.