Consider Willis Rose, 2009 winner of the MBTA’s Bus Roadeo, who regained his crown yesterday at the 35th annual competition: Raised to steer his father’s commercial truck before being old enough to reach the pedals, he grew into a skilled driver with steely nerves, lightning reflexes, and a sparkling record.
Now consider me, a newspaperman and reluctant motorist who wound up on the sidewalk in his first driver’s ed lesson (Central Avenue, Needham, 1995), went through a stop sign on his road test - a simple misunderstanding, thank you, Watertown Registry, for seeing it that way - and still hits the curb at the Globe parking-deck entrance with some regularity. (In fairness, it is narrow, angled, and littered with hubcaps, only some of which are mine.)
“You think you got what it takes?’’ T spokesman Joe Pesaturo asked, inviting another reporter and me to take the wheel in a post-Roadeo exhibition.
“Absolutely not,’’ I said. “But I’ll try anyway.’’
So there I was yesterday, strapped into the hydraulic-powered seat of MBTA Bus No. 0800, a 2008 New Flyer D40LF with Cummins diesel engine, a 40-foot-long, 102-inch-wide, 36-ton behemoth.
When it was Rose’s turn, he eased his hulking frame behind the wheel and pumped his arms twice, like a nose tackle preparing for the crouch.
When it was my turn, I raised the seat, then raised it some more. Kevin Vautour, an instructor with the MBTA’s seven-week training program, gave me a crash course, starting with the left-foot-operated turn signal. With his guidance, I found and buckled the seat belt, turned the master control dial to “day run,’’ and pushed the black start button on the left-hand console. The bus rumbled to life, no key needed.
Now, the mirrors, absolutely critical, two per side. They must be adjusted to show the full bus and adjacent pavement, tilted down enough to capture most of a person standing near the lethal rear wheels.
“Whenever I hear [the] expression, ‘Thrown under the bus,’ I cringe,’’ Vautour said.
I shuddered. Thankfully the course - around the Charlestown bus garage and yard - was pedestrian-free. I tried adjusting the mirrors. The left responded like a car’s, but mirrors on the right proved confounding. After three minutes watching me struggle, Vautour grabbed the joystick.
By then the bus was still - an anti-idling feature - so I restarted it, pushed the drive button, depressed the parking brake, and lurched forward - leaning into the foot brake to regain control.
First up was a channel of tennis balls, five per side, a few feet apart. I guided the front right tire through but crushed two with the back right. With Vautour navigating, I coaxed the bus across the lot and away from the other Roadeo obstacles, to lap the exterior of the hangar-sized garage.
(The timed course, with internationally established layout and codified 800-point scoring system, includes a variety of obstacles, turns, reverses, mock bus stops, and other tests, with judges on and off the bus evaluating precision, as well as operator appearance, clarity of announcements, and smoothness of driving.)
Turning was the biggest adjustment. The bus pivots at the rear, requiring a driver at an intersection to wait for the rear tire to clear the corner, meaning driver and bus are well out in front, before spinning the pizza-sized steering wheel.
We rounded the back of the building with ease, but the far side, an alley hard against the Mystic River, presented an unexpected problem: an MBTA truck temporarily parked opposite a pair of employees’ sport utility vehicles, leaving an angled gap barely wider than my bus.
My chest constricted. I turned to Vautour, ready to hand him the wheel. With the patience of a tee-ball coach, he eased me through, telling me to follow an imaginary line. “You’re doing great,’’ he said. Two minutes later, I cleared it, to a congratulatory chorus.
Overconfident, I brought the bus up to a breezy 8 miles an hour and pointed back for the course, to try another obstacle, a narrowing channel of barrels. After knocking down three of five on the right, I stopped the bus and stepped down, humbled.
“When it counted, you were impressive,’’ a fellow reporter offered.
Upstairs in the garage at the post-Roadeo ceremony, I compared notes with Rose and Brian Clifford, who finished ninth. Clifford had started his day with a hearty breakfast - his wife of 30 years, Lorraine, made him eggs over easy, bacon, home fries, and fresh-squeezed juice - and a visit to the Madonna shrine in East Boston, before hitting Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee. I had scarfed leftover pizza before dashing to the yard without stopping for coffee, worried that I would miss the first contestant.
Rose was cheered on by his wife, Emma, who will join him in May at the North American finals, held this year in Long Beach, Calif. The T pays expenses, plus $100 spending money for the winner.
The second- through 12th-place finishers yesterday split cash prizes, part of a $15,000 contest budget, well worth it, Acting General Manager Jonathan R. Davis said, as an investment in morale for the 1,600 bus drivers, whose job can be grueling and thankless.
“I’m not going to be as nervous this time,’’ said Rose, who finished 16th at the American Public Transportation Association championship in Cleveland two years ago, after his other T Roadeo victory.
Last year’s T champion, Tyrell Sullivan, ribbed Rose, but also wished him luck. Entrants must have a flawless driving record, and Sullivan clipped a car mirror on a route in Somerville this past year. His heart sank at the time, knowing he would be barred from the Roadeo.
“Everyone makes mistakes,’’ he said. “That’s why pencils come with erasers.’’ And so they do. Racing back to the Globe to make deadline, I cleared the entrance to the parking deck without striking the curb.
Eric Moskowitz can be reached at emoskowitz@globe.com.