As a member of the Purdue community and a devoted reader of the Exponent, I have noticed a lot of discussion about God in the last year or so. To the devout and to all you unbelievers as well, I bring good news. God is alive and well and drives the M10 bus to Battery Park in New York City. It's true. He's black, bald, about 40 years old, and somewhat round. And he knows his basketball.

 Here's how this rather remarkable discovery came about. One warm, balmy October day in Manhattan, Benny and I found ourselves at the corner of W. 14th street and 8th avenue making a pilgrimage to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.

 It's tough being a tourist sometimes. My aunt and uncle had sent us to 8th avenue with instructions to catch the bus to Battery Park. Unaccustomed as we were to mass transit, it took us a while to find the bus stop. The whole area was under construction, there were no bus signs, and there were four corners to choose from. We finally entered a corner drug store and asked a cashier who didn't speak English. At this point a friendly customer came to our rescue and directed us to the bus stop. Anyway, as I said, we were standing on the corner, skyscrapers all around us, listening to the music of the riveters, jack hammers and traffic, when an M10 bus to Battery Park pulled up. As soon as the door opened, I started up the steps.

 It was then that HE spoke. The bus driver I mean. He leaned forward in his seat, he pointed his finger at me, and with all the power of the entire New York City Transit Authority in his voice, he spoke one little word:

 "WAIT."

I backed down off the steps. After 2 or 3 people climbed out, he beckoned us aboard. Moses must have felt like I did at that point. You remember...when he approached the burning bush...the second time...after he took off his shoes.

 Bus fare in New York City is $1.15. We knew this. The friendly customer in the drug store had just told us to have tokens or the correct change. Well, I had the correct change. It was in the form of a dollar bill, a dime, and a nickel, all of which I proceeded to stuff into the token machine slot. "Ma'am, we can't accept bills," the bus driver said. "You either have to have the correct change in coins, or a token."

 As this little piece of enlightenment dawned on us, the bus lurched down 8th avenue. Dismayed, I said, "You'll have to let us off. We don't have either one."

 Waving us back towards the seats, the driver just said exasperatedly, "No, no, just ask someone on the bus for a token. They'll have one."

 Like I said, it's not easy being a tourist. Benny and I turned around and looked into what seemed like a sea of faces sitting in bus seats. As the floor rocked and swayed under our feet, I asked, "Does anyone have some tokens to sell," in a still, small voice.

 A gentleman sitting towards the front said, "Sure, I have a couple."

 There happened to be two empty seats next to him. Relieved, we sat down and held out our $2.30. He in turn dropped two tokens like manna from heaven into my upturned hand. With a fervant "Thank you", I approached the token machine, dropped our fares through the slot, and turned toward my newly found, nice, safe, secure bus seat.

 "Where're you heading?"

 The bus driver's question stopped me in my tracks. "Battery Park," I said. Then another problem occurred to me. "But we don't know where to get off," I said.

 As soon as the words left of my mouth, I knew he had me. As a wide grin spread across his broad face, he replied confidently, "OH, don't worry, sweetheart, I'll TELL you where to GET OFF." I stood there and glared at him as he swerved around a double parked car. With just a trace of amusement around his eyes, he said smoothly, "Sit down. I'll take CARE of you."

Humbly I went back to my seat to contemplate whether this was a promise or a threat.

 "So...two lost souls in the naked city," he said cordially, looking up at us in the rear view mirror. "Where're you from?"

 "Indiana," said Benny.

 "Mmhmmm...where in Indiana?"

 "Lafayette," said Benny.

 "Have you heard of Purdue University?" I prompted. You could say that at that moment the bus driver saw the light.

 "Oh, yes..." he said, "home of the Purdue BoilerMakers." The words rolled off his tongue just like a sports announcer's. You could almost hear the crowds cheering and "Hail Purdue" being played in the background. "Are they going to make it this year?"

 "To the NCAA? I doubt it," said Benny. Benny is strictly a fair weather fan.

 After a brief silence the driver said, "There's that other team in Indiana."

 "We don't talk about them," we informed him.

"He's a sick man!" He paused from his discourse on Bobby to tell an elderly passenger, "This is your stop, darlin'. Now if you want to go to the bank, you cross the street, and turn right at that gray building." He watched as she ambled down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, and as the bus started rolling, he opened the door and yelled, "Not that building, lady, the gray building across the street...no, THAT WAY...no...I give up." Shaking his head, he glanced up at us in the mirror and repeated his assertion, "Yes, he's a sick man." Then with a hint of a twinkle in his eye, he changed the subject and said coyly, "I have this little story about two people from Indiana.

 "These two people, we'll call them Ma and Pa, lived way out in the country and they had never been away from home too much. One day, Ma had to go away for a few days to take care of a sick aunt (pronounced 'awnt' by the driver). With Ma gone, Pa just worked around the place as usual. One day a traveling salesman came by with a whole wagon load of wares. Pa had never seen so much stuff. As he was looking through all the pots and the pans, and the scissors, he came across a mirror. He held it up, saw his reflection and said, 'This is a picture of my father! How did you get a picture of my father? This makes me very happy.'" The bus driver smiled broadly at an imaginary mirror as he portrayed Pa's delight, and then continued, "Pa decided he had to have this mirror, so he went inside and got Ma's egg money and gave it to the salesman.

 "Pa hung the mirror in the house and every time he saw it, he felt happy. Then one day it was time for Ma to come home. Pa decided to put the mirror in the barn, because he didn't want Ma to know he'd gotten into her egg money. When Ma got home, she thought Pa was in a pretty good mood for having been left all by himself for several days. And she noticed that whenever he went out to the barn, he'd always come back with a big grin on his face. One day she decided to see what was making him so happy in that barn. So when he was out in the field, she went into the barn and looked around. When she peeked into a feed bin, there was the mirror. She lifted it out and looked and said, "Well! So that's the hussy he's been foolin' around with while I've been gone!"

 Everyone on the bus laughed. Even those who didn't speak English.

 "Have you lived in New York all your life?" Benny ventured to ask.

 "I grew up in the Bronx," said the driver, "and I live in Queens. Your stop is next." He gazed intently in the rear view mirror at two foreign youths, Swedish types, sitting in the back of the bus and barked, "YOU!" They looked at him. "Yes, you," he confirmed with a big nod of his head. "Come HERE." He pointed to the exact spot on the floor. They walked up obediently. As we all climbed down the steps, he told us to take a right at the corner, walk one block over and walk four blocks south. Then he drove away in his M10 bus.

 Oh, all right, so maybe he wasn't really God. At the very least, he was a memorable individual. Look at it this way. When it comes to the friendliness and helpfulness of New Yorkers towards visitors, he made believers out of Benny and me.