Third generation? Come on.
It's gaudy, geriatric and garrulous.
On the rear of each of these brightly painted rickety boxes is written: BLOW HORNS PLEASE. And the drivers behind them, in a rare and somewhat perverse show of obedience, comply.
As I unsuccessfully tried to lull myself to sleep, I just consoled myself with the thought that, at least, Indian bus makers and operators haven't (yet?) discovered those crazy horn sounds--maniacal laughter, crowing rooster, la cucaracha, you name it--that hit Manila's streets a few years back. God forbid they ever do!
It's gaudy, geriatric and garrulous.
On the rear of each of these brightly painted rickety boxes is written: BLOW HORNS PLEASE. And the drivers behind them, in a rare and somewhat perverse show of obedience, comply.
As I unsuccessfully tried to lull myself to sleep, I just consoled myself with the thought that, at least, Indian bus makers and operators haven't (yet?) discovered those crazy horn sounds--maniacal laughter, crowing rooster, la cucaracha, you name it--that hit Manila's streets a few years back. God forbid they ever do!
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