Bus 47 has 3.4 kilometres too many every night

Thursday, 05:40. Isidro Cañas, mechanic at the Villaverde bus depot, writes on the sheet for the 47: “3.4 km with no assigned route. Fourth night running.” He signs underneath, because whoever signs answers for it.

Wednesday, 23:50. Nerea Puig, head of traffic, asks him to round it off. The fleet audit closes on the 30th and a vehicle with orphan kilometres opens a three-week file. Isidro tells her he does not round off anything that carries his signature.

Tuesday, 01:10. From the pit he hears the 47 come in twenty minutes late. Fermín Olalla, who has driven the line for eleven years, climbs down with his log already filled in.

Monday, 00:30. Isidro rides the last service standing, next to the middle door. At the second-to-last stop, Chelo Baamonde and another woman from the hospital cleaning shift are still on board. Fermín does not drop them there: he carries on another one thousand seven hundred metres along the old road, stops outside number 12 on Herrera street and opens the doors. Then he turns round, pulls into the depot and writes down the official route, not a kilometre more.

“There has been no night line since June,” says Fermín, still in his seat. “That is eleven minutes of mine and four stops of theirs walking in the dark. Write it down wherever you like, but write all of it.”