WHEN I was a little girl holding my mother's hand, I remember looking down the road and watching a tiny orange speck growing larger and larger. "It's the bus!" What a happy, reassuring sight! Later, during the decades I lived in Toronto, on visits home the sight of the familiar orange and cream would be welcoming and warm my heart.
Now they're disappearing and being replaced by dirty white hulks. Can the people at the bus stops see them coming anymore? Is that the bus or a snowbank? Whose idea was this? Obviously, it wasn't the brainchild of anyone who uses the buses. Whoever it was couldn't have grown up here.