As buses circle around campus flashing Gators-themed messages in bright-orange digital letters, William Petrak slouches in the cushioned driver's seat of a chunky turquoise bus whose sign reads "125 Lakeside" in pale gray letters.
"This is an old bus," he explains. "It don't do fancy things like that."
But Petrak, 60, is content behind the oversized steering wheel of this or any bus, he said, because it's where he's been for the past 22 years. Monday through Friday, starting at 6:35 a.m., Petrak chauffeurs students around campus, from the Hub, past Fraternity Row to the O'Connell Center and back again.
He's happy to do it, he said, because he gets know the students and talk to the few who care to talk to him.
In a khaki RTS hat and uniform navy shirt, Petrak flashes a smile at riders in the front seats. With just a few yellowed teeth on the bottom row of his mouth, he lisps greetings.
"I don't have any teeth," he declares when a girl asks him to repeat what he said.
"You probably have trouble hearing me. The dentist pulled these teeth out," he rasps, flashing the naked gums on the bottom row. "They weren't no good."
Petrak said he let a dental student who rode his bus perform the procedure at Shands at UF.
"They have to learn how to do it somehow, right?"
Petrak admits that his memory is a bit fuzzy. He squints as he recalls the days before he drove a bus, when he worked in the steel mills of his hometown, near Pittsburgh, Pa.
"I put the steel in the furnaces," he boasted. "You have to put the steel in the furnaces to heat it up. They use it to make razor blades and buildings. Now they make all of that in South Korea."
As he talked about the steel mill, he pointed to the buildings near Turlington Plaza, illustrating what his work could have been used for. But when the steel mills closed in the â€ó80s, Petrak found himself out of work. He came to visit his parents in Florida and got a job driving trucks.
Petrak, who lives alone, says one of the perks of his job is getting to know the students. He has a daughter and four grandchildren, but they live in Toledo, Ohio.
He was married once, he says, but it didn't work out. She was his high school sweetheart, and he is reluctant to say why the marriage crumbled.
Now alone, he spends his days circling campus with a constantly shifting collection of passengers. He never planned to be a bus driver, but the job fell into his hands. While living in with his parents near Tampa, he was looking for work, and RTS was looking for a driver. For a few years, he commuted an hour and a half to Gainesville, and eventually, after his parents died, he moved.
Petrak has a house, but he thinks of it as a work in progress. He spends much of his free time painting and fixing it up. The rest of his time is spent golfing, he says.
"Ocala has a lot of nice golf courses," he says animatedly. "I try to make it out there at least twice a month. I've made friends on the golf course. We mostly just see each other there."
Other than that, he's not very social. Petrak chuckles at the thought of going out to bars these days, but when he was younger, he was no stranger to nightlife. Recalling those days, he raises a big thumbs up.
Now, he's in bed most nights by 9 p.m. But soon, his routine will change.
Next year, he looks forward to no more 5 a.m. wake-up calls and days without lunch breaks. Next year, he plans to retire.
"In one year, I'll have the house paid off," he muses. "And I will be 62. At 62, you get social security. That's what I'm waiting on. See, the same year the house is done, I'll get social security. It was just supposed to work out that way."
He anticipates days filled with golf, long visits to see his grandkids, the occasional fishing trip and a finished house. He says he will miss the bus rides, but he is ready to go.
"You get tired of it," he sighs. "Not of the job, or of the kids, but just of sitting. And driving. I'm tired of driving."
He turns the wheel and pulls up to a stop. As he opens the door he "hellos" as the students get on and clicks the counter as each one passes him. After the stream of students pass, he pulls a lever to close the door and starts to whistle and indistinct tune. He peeks in his rearview mirror, straightens up and drives.
