This guy usually drives the 66 that is supposed to arrive at my stop at 8:39 in the morning. He typically arrives after the scheduled 8:54. That is because he is the slowest driver on DeCamp's payroll. He is not cautiously slow -- like, to make sure he keeps a safe distance from other cars in stop-and-start traffic. He is inexplicably slow. Pathologically slow. This morning Route 3 was wide open, and he drove a steady 35 or 40 MPH all the way into the city. He has a screw loose.
Not that you would know it from talking to him, because he doesn't speak. To describe him as laconic would be wildly overstating his verbal output. Tell him, "Have a good day," and you get silence. "Are there any seats left?" Silence. "Do you stop at Laurel Place?" [Sound of crickets chirping.] One is left to parse the rare monosyllabic response or grunt with the care and scrutiny applied by North Korea watchers to Kim Jong Il's once-a-decade public utterances. He is a certifiable nut job.
Note: silent dreadlocks guy is not to be confused with friendly, professional dreadlocks guy, who frequently drives the 8:09 AM 66. Friendly, professional dreadlocks guy is almost always on time, provides you information when you ask for it, and, on arrival at Port Authority, gets on the PA to wish everyone a good day. Every day.