The bendy part of the bus squeaked as it ascended Van Ness. Years of wear on the joints, from taking corners too hard and going up the sharp inclines of the San Francisco hills, had caused them to tear.
It wasn’t enough to warrant replacing the ribs. The San Francisco climate was mild year-round, unlike somewhere like Chicago, and there was no temperature-related reason to mend the bus. That said, the water got in when it rained, which was annoying.
Regardless, it made the buses look rundown. It was a tragedy that such a beautiful city had such sad buses.