Open Letter to Mr. Bus

My Dearest Bus:

How are you fine sir? Work keeping you busy? Indeed, the grind of the bus schedule is a bit much at times. However, I trust all is well.

Excuse my brashness, but I am afraid the time for civility and gentlemanly manners has passed. I would not normally dare be so rude, but you, my friend, have not been upholding your end of the bargain regarding traffic flow.

I often note your presence in the motorbike lane. While a stray venture here or there could easily be excused, your preference to be among the motorbikes has become quite bothersome. As you know, it is classified as the motorbike lane for a very specific reason. I would never go so far as to question your reading comprehension, but please permit me to remind you that it is a lane specified for those vehicles only on two wheels -- not ten. Indeed, one could make the very astute observation that I am myself often in the car/bus lane. However, I need not remind you that I am an agile snake, capable of weaving in and out of traffic like a magician. You, on the contrary, are a lumbering loaf of metal that finds basic traffic maneuvers such as right turns quite the battle. Give me a hole -- even a small one -- and I will slither and punch my way through it before you can say "Ho Chi Minh City." All things, of course, are not equal, and my occasional dip into the car lane cannot be compared to your egregious abuse of the rules.

For fear of writing another letter, please allow me to lodge another complaint. While driving behind you, I am often bathed in your emissions. My dear friend, this is a personal health issue. We both know that my owner's habit of putting his hand over his mouth is futile in keeping out your byproducts, but please take it as a visual cue that your body odor is quite offensive. I certainly would not instruct the fat man next to me at the buffet to eat less -- as that only affects a single individual -- but if he were to, hypothetically speaking, light up a cigarette, you can bet I would confront the situation, manners be damned. As a motorbike that prides itself on the utmost personal maintenance, I ask you to do the same, so that the streets become a bit more cordial.

I apologize for broaching the subject via letter, but I fear that a personal meeting could quickly escalate and end badly for me -- given our disproportionate sizes. If, however, I fail to see any meaningful change, there will be no choice but to settle the dispute over blows. My honor can only be abridged so many times, Mr. Bus. Please do not underestimate me sir given my small stature, for I am akin to a fly. Have you ever attempted to swat a fly off of your exterior? You have, have you? Were you successful in killing it? Of course you weren't. Understand that my speed and maneuverability puts you at a distinct disadvantage if our unfortunate disagreement were to evolve into a physical altercation. I must warn you that, located under my seat, is a six-pack of eggs. If, by chance, one of said eggs were to end up splattered on your windshield, would you be able to catch me? I will let you contemplate the consequences.

Please do me the honor of saying hello to your lovely wife, Mrs. Semi-Truck, and your two adorable children, Taxi Van and Ambulance.

Respectfully,

Motorbike