Drive-By Bubble Joy
The surprising result of doing one joyful thing, again and again.
If you need a little proof that the world is still full of delightful humans, allow me to introduce you to Ricki Reid: a 54-year-old London bus driver (and dad of six!) who spends his workday driving Route 106 while casually blasting bubbles out the driver’s window like it’s his second job to personally refill the city’s serotonin supply. (Read the article here: The Washington Post)
Yes. Bubbles. On purpose. In traffic. While driving a bus.
The article says he’s been doing this for six years, which is important because it instantly separates this from the internet’s usual “I tried joy for 21 days and then returned to doom-scrolling while I bed-rot.” Ricki didn’t wake up one morning with a master plan to become The Bubble Guy driving The Bubble Bus. He saw a discounted bottle of bubbles in a grocery store check out line, bought it on a whim, and then, like any reasonable person who accidentally stumbles into a good idea, he simply kept doing it.
And he didn’t just keep it casual. This man has tested around 40 bubble guns over the last six years. Forty. That’s not a hobby; that’s research and development. That’s a full-on bubble ministry.
As he drives his route, kids recognize the bus and chant about it, because of course they do. If I were seven years old and a bus rolled up literally spilling bubbles into the street, I would also declare it a magic event and write a song to commemorate it, like the British Bards of Olde.
But here’s the part that got me right in the feels: the bubbles aren’t just for children. Adults love them too. People have been moved to tears. One rider told him the bubbles meant so much because she was having a terrible day, started crying, and Ricki GOT. OFF. THE. BUS. to comfort her!
And that, right there, is why this story is so much more than a quirky viral moment.
Because what I love most isn’t just that Ricki wants to make people happy.
It’s how he does it.
He didn’t schedule “spread joy” as a separate, exhausting, IG Reel-worthy event. He didn’t wait until he had the perfect timing, the perfect plan, or the perfect confidence that people would respond in the perfect way.
He simply integrated joy-bringing into the life rhythm he already had.
He brought it with him to work.
And honestly? That feels like the secret so many of us miss.
When we think about doing something kind or fun or generous, we tend to think it has to be big to matter. Big gesture. Big plan. Big payoff. We think “Massive Surprise Party” and then we don’t do anything at all because, honestly, who has the time? Who has the energy? Who has the emotional bandwidth to blow up a balloon arch when the laundry is already forming an arch of its own in the hallway?
But Ricki’s bubble bus reminds us that small doesn’t mean insignificant.
Small can be steady. Small can be sustainable. Small can ripple.
And please know, this man’s “small” is still wildly committed. He packs multiple sets of rechargeable batteries so the bubble gun can run all day. As someone who regularly finds my phone on 2%, I have a massive amount of respect for this part alone. Battery awareness is a spiritual discipline.
He can’t control who sees the bubbles or how they’ll react. He can’t predict whether someone will laugh, cry, film a TikTok, or simply pause in momentary delight and then breathe a little easier for ten seconds at a red light.
He has decided that his job is just to bring the joy - then let the joy do what joy does.
So here’s my question for you (and yes, I’m asking myself too): what could your version of a bubble gun be?
Not something huge. Not something that requires a committee or a new line in your budget. Just one small, repeatable way to carry joy into the spaces you already go.
Is it the smile you give the cashier who looks like she’s been yelled at since breakfast? Is it the note you leave for your kid in their lunch? Is it the way you let someone merge in traffic like you’re not in The Fast and Furious XXIIV? Is it sending a postcard, making someone laugh, bringing extra coffee, texting the friend who’s gone quiet, high-fiving the runners on the trail, holding the door, or remembering names?
We can’t all fill a city with bubbles (and let’s be honest, that would get very sticky, very fast), but we can choose one small thing and do it long enough that it becomes part of who we are. Something we are known for. Wouldn’t being a joy-bringer be a wonderful thing to be known for?
Because joy, like bubbles, travels. And you never know who might be nearby, having the kind of day that needs a little whimsy to float by.
