For context, I'm a middle-aged man who lives on the outskirts of Parbold, small English village.

My house is the only one on a long, winding, country road, but...

It does have a bus stop.

From my bedroom window, I can see it on the other side of the road.

It's quite handy, really.

I never really miss the morning bus to work, and I know the schedule

off by heart. That's why I was bewildered when I first noticed the 3.17 a.m. bus on Saturday

on 14th of October. It woke me up, actually. I'm a light sleeper.

I sat up right in bed, twisted my body around,

prop myself up on my knees,

and gingerly inched the curtains open.

The old lamppost on my road illuminated

an ominous full-gray, non-branded,

single-decker bus.

There was no interior lighting.

I couldn't see a driver or any passengers.

Now, this was obviously bizarre.

Buses don't show up at that time in the morning, not in this country.

Not in any town or city I know anyway.

Still, I assumed, as any person would, but times were changing, and it seemed like a good idea, a bus for those who have missed the

last train home after a night out, perhaps. That still didn't entirely make sense, because very

few people use my bus stop. It's a 10-minute walk from here to anywhere.

...