Ever since I was involved in that 8-car pile-up on I-85 in downtown Atlanta the first year I moved here from New York, I’ve been a bit of a nervous driver (and a worse passenger). Anything that involves me taking highways anywhere is up for serious negotiation. So it amazes me that there seems to be a proliferation of Party Buses all over the country. Atlanta has really the cutest of them all with the Fur Bus (it is completely decorated inside with fake fur and it practically causes a riot when it shows up at least once every year on the last day of school for some lucky graduating 5th-grader’s end-of-year party). The last thing I would consider a party, however, would be to get in a vehicle driven by someone I don’t know to drive around Atlanta’s seven-lane highways for several hours. That’s like Dante’s Inferno to me, but hey, folks seem to love this.

I, on the other, hand, actually hired the Tumblebus for a party once. This is an old school bus retrofitted with gymnastics equipment. The bus parks in front of your house, and doesn’t move. The kids go on board and have their tumbling party. They come in your house and eat cake, and then they leave. Perfect, yes? I thought so, except the Tumblebus never showed up — some scheduling mishap. And it was January. And I had 15 six-year-olds at my house and nothing planned. Fur flew.