The story of me and the passengers? Sincere service, don't forget your initial intention.

Time flies, I have been a bus driver for ten years. I grew up from a teenager to an old driver, and I can handle problems in my work with ease. In the past ten years, the concern and care of leaders, colleagues and passengers have been endless, which makes me unforgettable. Let's talk about the story between me and the passengers.

This photo was taken three months ago, but the story happened eight years ago. The passenger patting my arm in the picture gave me a generous gift shortly after I started working. This gift has always moved me. Even in those gloomy moments, he gave me enough strength to clear away all the haze.

It was a summer afternoon eight years ago. I drove the no.30 bus to the second ring road, and I felt that the throttle was suddenly light and I couldn't add oil. Pull over, open the hood and find that the throttle lever on the carburetor has fallen off. Hang up the tie rod and you can continue walking. Although there is nothing wrong with it, the pull rod hangs under the engine room, and the space in the engine room is relatively narrow, so one person can't do it.

Just when I was in a dilemma, I suddenly saw a hand under the cabin, holding a pull rod and lifting it. I froze, so I caught it and hung it on the carburetor. I'll get off when I'm done. I saw a passenger climb out from under the car. I am so moved that I don't know what to say. The passenger patted the dust on his body and said, nothing. You're welcome. Let's go. Although I haven't seen you for eight years, I can recognize you at a glance when I see you again.

The passenger in the photo is blind. He always gets on the Second Ring Road and gets off at the terminal. Because he is blind, he can tell which bus is coming with his ears. Every time I meet him, I will deliberately repeat the stop. I thought it was such a plain greeting, but I didn't expect his words to make me respect him.

It was last summer, and it was also in the hottest summer. On a hot afternoon, few pedestrians in the street saw him still working there. I asked him, are you going? He hesitated about getting on the bus. After sitting down, he asked me what time it was, and I said it was almost four o'clock. He snorted and said regretfully that it was still early, so he might as well stay here for a while. A blind man is so dedicated that I want to learn from him.