Colin – Banter on the Bus

Colin has been driving buses in Tauranga for seven years. His shifts often start before dawn, pauses in the middle of the day, and finishes in the evening. “Split shifts are good,” he says. “I get to head home, let the dogs out, take them for a walk. Everything’s good.”

His journey to the driver’s seat has been anything but straightforward. Born in Scotland, Colin worked as a bricklayer and stonemason before moving to New Zealand 25 years ago on what was meant to be a two-year working visa. “They didn’t want me doing stonework here, so I became a licensed secondhand dealer. Then I went back to restoration work, then a toy maker making wooden Montessori toys. After that I thought, ‘I need something more reliable.’ So I had a go at bus driving. That was seven years ago – and I’m still here!”

What drew him in wasn’t just steady work, but people. “I get on well with people. I’ve got this stupid Scottish sense of humour,” he grins. “Most people are good. If you treat them right, they’re right enough with you as well.” Over the years, passengers have become familiar faces. He remembers kids from Tauranga Intermediate who now hop on in Boys’ College uniforms, stopping to chat about university plans. He’s had little ones run up for a hug every morning, or wave madly from the footpath when he no longer drives their route. “One wee boy even had his mum write a letter to say how much he missed me when I went on holiday,” Colin says. “That’s nice, you know.”

It’s not just children. Elderly passengers often get on simply for company. “Sometimes you’re the only person they see that day. They’ll hand you a banana or just have a chat. Otherwise, they’d be stuck at home. It’s good to get them out and moving about.”

Community moments like these keep him going. He still laughs about the time an older gentleman insisted on giving every bus driver a packaged waffle. Too sweet for him, but he appreciated the gesture. “It’s just nice to be recognised,” he says. “I speak to everyone who gets on my bus. Hello, how are you, how’s your day? And when they say, ‘Thanks, driver,’ on the way out – it’s good. It’s nice to be appreciated.”

Bus driving also gives Colin something his earlier trades couldn’t: freedom. “You’re your own boss, really. That’s my corner office,” he says of the driver’s seat. “When you pull into a stop, you never know who you’re going to get or what’s going to happen. It keeps it interesting.” He names Welcome Bay at sunrise as one of the best views in Tauranga. “Coming down the hill, the whole mount’s lit up, the sun’s glistening across the bay. It’s fantastic. You can’t stop for photos when the bus is full, but I’ve taken a few over the years.”

His life outside of work is just as colourful. Married for 25 years, with two grown sons, Colin is also a musician. “I’ve been playing the piano accordion since I was 12,” he says. “Played in folk clubs back in the UK, ceilidh dances too. These days my son plays the pipes, another plays the drums, and I ended up roped into the big bass drum in the pipe band. We’re quite musical as a family. Even the dog sings along sometimes,” he laughs.

There have been tricky moments – a passenger threatening him over a fare, drunks cracking open beers on the bus – but Colin takes them in stride. “You’ve got to be a people person. If you don’t like people, don’t be a bus driver. Safety first, manners second. Get them there safe – if they’re ten minutes late, so be it, at least they’re in one piece.”

For Colin, the job is as much about connection as it is about transport. He’s seen teenagers grow from cheeky kids into polite young men who now greet him with, “Good morning, sir.” He’s been stopped in the street by past passengers who just want to shake his hand. “That’s the stuff you remember,” he says.

And the one thing that always makes his day? It’s simple. “When people say, ‘Thanks, driver,’ you feel like you’ve done a good job. They’re safe, they’re happy, and you’ve made a difference. That’s what it’s all about.”

Colin and his Singing Dog

If you’re ever lucky enough to catch Colin behind the wheel of a bus, you might not guess there’s a musician sitting in the driver’s seat. But once he’s home, that’s exactly what he becomes.

When Colin moved to New Zealand, the accordion came too. It wasn’t long before he found another musician – another banjo player from back home – and they carried on the tradition. Music, it seems, runs deep in the family.
“One of my boys plays the bagpipes. He started when he was eight and played his first Nationals when he was eleven,” Colin says proudly. “My youngest started on the drum, so I got roped into the big bass drum in the band. If you’re taking the kids to practice, you might as well learn something yourself.”

Between the accordion, the Irish drum, and a few singalongs, there’s always been music in Colin’s home. Even his wife and sons join in from time to time – but they’re not the only ones who can carry a tune.

Turns out, Colin’s dog can sing too.

Shadow, a seven-year-old Border Collie–Huntaway cross, was once an agility dog until a bad hip slowed her down. These days, she keeps busy with scent training – and the occasional duet.

“It started when we were singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to someone in the house,” Colin laughs. “Shadow just joined in with a big howl. I thought, right, I’ll work on this. So now, I’ll start doing a scale on the accordion, and she’ll try to go up the notes with me.”

Shadow isn’t shy about showing off her voice, especially when Colin plays ‘How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?’ “She knows the first few words – as soon as she hears them, she’s ready to sing,” he says. “I’ve even been trying to teach her to yodel.”

There’s also Marmite, a Huntaway–Shar-Pei cross the couple recently adopted. Marmite’s still young, just getting started with scent training – but who knows? Another singer might be in the making.

“It’s just good fun,” he says. “We have a wee sing-song here and there. Keeps everyone happy – even the dogs.”