No blue in the sky. No green in the khakis. Just ring around the collar for a hard day’s work.

The most miserable day in the life of a Red Bus Driver is the day the weather decides your fate. Nothing you can do when the clouds drop and the rain ripples thru your canvas roof and soaks the seats and passengers. Except write about it and laugh.

There was little that could have made today worse. Both from a touring perspective and even more so when considering potential tips. To start with, this was a double Alpine Trip. This means two 4.5-hour tours (one AM and one PM), with almost no gap in between and heavy post-trip inside/outside clean-up for the bus. Minimum a twelve-hour day on the clock for a driver.

It starts with pre-tripping my bus. The first thing I notice is the five-gallon sag of water in the canvas roof. Yeah, poking that thing to drain the water was like trying to disarm a water bomb pinata. I could just see the old top tearing open and soaking me in my dapper white shirt and Tilley hat.

Once I passed the first test of the gauntlet, I decided it would be a good day to really stock up on dry towels. Actually, I filled the passenger seat. It was going to be a soggy one and from all of the leaks in my roof, most of the seats were already wet. My passengers are going to love that.

It dawned on me that words to describe the dismal hopelessness that I face are just inadequate. Here is a quick video to show you how my 12-hour day was starting. It was destined to get much worse.

So let’s head up the road to Many Glacier. This 2.3-mile stretch of dirt was SO potholed it took well over 20 minutes to clear.

So much for showing up in a nice clean bus (which we wash and dry every night no matter how long our shift was).

Picking up people at St Mary wasn’t any better. The rain was blowing sideways. Did I mention that the bus leaked and all of the seats were wet?

One guy asked me to be honest with him. What were he and his family going to experience for the next four hours? I was honest. Brutally. I said the clouds were at 5,000 feet, you will not see mountains. With the torrential rain and wind, you will not see wildlife. The seats will be wet, and I have towels to wipe the windows. And there is no heating in the passenger area of the bus. He went to talk to his wife and never came back. Smart move.

One couple I could not deter. They were from Switzerland and had these two little kids that splashed in every puddle, tracked mud all over the bench seat, and kicked the back of my driver’s seat for the ENTIRE four hours. And of course, Europeans don’t tip. More importantly, why would you come to Glacier when you have the frickin’ Alps?

At most of the stops, people wouldn’t even get out of the Red Bus.

At the Jackson Glacier Overlook, the terminus of our tour on the Sun Road, it is usually a real shit show for parking. Jammers can rarely find a spot. I not only found one but was the only vehicle there. And I still parked far away and made everyone walk so I could burn up a couple more minutes.

The weather NEVER let up. Not one bit the entire day. No sky.

The dialogue I gave was incredible. It had to be to make up for the lack of visuals. The stories. The history. Everything I could think of. And for those at Many Glacier, I talked the ENTIRE return trip down the road from Babb about EVERYTHING that makes that valley so special.

And at the end of the day, the only tip I got was from a guy who I made an extra restroom stop for. What did I learn from this? On a rainy day, the only way a Jammer is making money is if he holds peoples’ bladders for ransom. No pee on the seats is green in the pants. Or something like that. I’ll work on it. Then put it on business cards and pass them out to my riders.