I ride the bus everyday,
With a variety of people.
There are homeless,
There are businessmen,
There are mothers with their children
Trying to get them to school.
Some people wave,
And a couple brave souls venture to talk.
There is a new driver, Don,
And he’s a different kind of driver.
He hates the squeaky wheel.
The bus I ride everyday has a squeaky wheel—
The one at the front
On the passenger’s side.
When the bus runs smoothly
She mostly keeps quiet.
But when the bus brakes too hard
Or when the drive swerves dangerously
She makes a racket.
Most of us don’t mind the noise—
It reminds us that we need to get a car someday.
But Don—oh Don—he hates it.
He told me the bus line he used to run
Had no squeaky wheels.
Every bus was spick and span.
Don loathes the noise.
Every time it rears its head
He’ll shout out to the crowd.
What he doesn’t realize
Is that he’s part of the reason it squeaks.
Don drives too fast.
He likes to speed across railroad tracks
Instead of look both ways first.
He likes to take sharp turns
Going forty in a fifteen.
So it’s no wonder she hollers at him.
But the problem isn’t just about Don—
Though Don certainly could be better—
He could be the one to step up
And address the problems of the squeaky wheel.
But this is also a problem with the bus company.
Leave a squeaky wheel too long,
And it just might come off.
And if one wheel falls off the bus,
You had best be ready for the oncoming accident.
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