Here's a test of your ingenuity. Design a vehicle capable of taking 60 to 70 people through the narrow, crowded streets of one of the world's busiest cities. Keep the weight down so it is fast and manoeuvrable. Make it as easy as possible for passengers to get on and off. Design the exterior so it becomes an icon of the city it serves, writes Kieran Fagan
Got it yet? The city is London; the bus is the Routemaster, the familiar droopy-nosed creature snuffling through the city with passengers hopping on and off via the open platform at the back. It was designed 50 years ago, ran for the last time yesterday - on the 159 route from Marble Arch to Streatham.
London developed three great transport solutions. The Underground, with its trademark diagrammatic map; the London cab, ubiquitous, fast and able to turn on a sixpence; and the big red bus - the Routemaster. The prototype RM1 bus made its appearance on the streets complete with heater which didn't work in 1954. Number 2760 came off the production line in 1968, and Routemasters can be found in service all over the world - but no longer now in its home city, where a couple of "heritage" routes will now mock its proud history of service.
There were so many smart things designed into those buses. They had light alloy structure, power-assisted steering and powered hydraulic brakes. Automatic gearboxes ensured a smooth ride. Bulbs screwed in and out so the crew could replace them when they blew. Seat fabrics became lighter in colour as they wore, so they looked fresh longer. Seats were trimmed with leather so passengers could slide in and out more easily. The wind-down windows didn't rattle. Wooden floor-strips helped you stay upright. A separate driver's cab meant the man or woman at the wheel could concentrate on safe driving. And, though the thought surely never entered the design team's mind, if someone was about to detonate a bomb, you could get off the bus quickly.
Any budget visitor to London did well to study the bus routes. Armed with an all-day ticket, you could hop on and off all day as you wished. Westminster Abbey and Piccadilly Circus became more than underground caves with trains hurtling through. You could savour the shop windows of Regent Street from your elevated seat. The best seats were the two front left downstairs and the front four upstairs. Ding ding! The bus moved off. Ding! The bus stopped. Off you got.
Now you must use lethargic one-person-operated bendy buses, or clumsy, slow-moving front-entry vehicles. You queue outside in all weathers as fares are collected before you can board. The buses are slow to empty as the driver must stop, open the door and let you out. Great big bendy-buses now clog the traffic. A little over a year ago, I stood in Upper Street, Islington marvelling as the swarming Routemasters nipped in and out through the traffic. Last month I saw the same street clogged by cumbersome bendy-buses - and to compound the congestion, Transport for London, (Mayor Ken Livingstone-speak for London Transport) is losing money because fare-collection on these monsters is a nightmare. Incidentally, Livingstone's election promises included keeping the Routemaster: he assured Londoners he understood the difference between "fill up at terminus and deposit at destination" bus services, and the "hop on, hop off" city experience at which the Routemaster excels.
However, though the king of the city street has been deposed, he is not dead. The faithful have made pilgrimages to London and returned with restored buses, pledging to guard them until the restoration of the monarchy. Ireland is but one of the Elbas where the deposed are honoured in exile.
On a recent Saturday afternoon, RML 2453 (the L indicates a lengthened chassis, capable of carrying 77 passengers), wearing a Piccadilly Circus destination plate, followed the Dublin no 14 route. Patient folk at bus stops in Churchtown marvelled at the approach of the bright red bus, a reminder of what once was before the transport economists had their life-sapping way.
At a layby close to Nutgrove shopping centre, I found a group of middle-aged men sitting in their gleaming, restored 1966 double-decker. We listened to the sweet sound of the 1992 diesel engine, and marvelled at the perfect interior. The lads had just returned from London with it and couldn't resist giving this London 14 a spin on the Dublin 14 route, though they could not pick up passengers. I took some photographs, and they asked me to promise not to divulge their identities. "It's bad enough that our families think we are total nutcases.".
Don't worry, lads, your secret is safe with me.