A researcher found a column of handwritten departure times beside the printed timetable. The retired driver's family believed he had operated an unofficial late bus for years. The dates continued until the month before his death.
Former passengers remembered rides, but not a bus. The driver owned a small car and sometimes carried shopping to people above the last stop. The penciled times recorded when he intended to make those trips, with initials identifying recipients rather than routes.
The researcher checked several entries against letters in the same box. One woman thanked him for delivering a coat; another apologized for missing him. The timetable supplied a familiar structure for a private arrangement. It did not describe a public service anyone could have boarded.
The family kept their pride in him after the correction. His kindness required neither an invented bus nor a hidden schedule. At the memorial exhibition, they displayed the timetable beside a photograph of the modest car. Visitors recognized the cramped back seat where bags of groceries had traveled, and supplied names for initials the family could not yet identify.