SILVER SPRING - The Montgomery County Ride On bus, the kind Conrad Johnson drove, left the depot yesterday afternoon for a destination never on any route before October.

The men and women on the bus, Johnson's fellow drivers, know any one of them could have been shot and killed by the Washington-area sniper Oct. 22 instead of Johnson, who was preparing for a rush-hour run the day he became the 10th person to die at the shooter's hands.

Johnson's fellow drivers have thought about that fact many sleepless nights since it happened, even after two suspects, John Allen Muhammad and Lee Boyd Malvo, were arrested Oct. 24. The random way their colleague was chosen is one reason they made yesterday's trip to Johnson's townhouse in Prince George's County to visit his widow and surprise his children with a visit from Santa Claus.

"Bus operators know their lives can be at risk," said section chief Branco Vlacich. "You would expect a car accident or a bus accident or even an injury from a passenger, but having somebody shoot you would never be looked at as part of the job."

Another reason they traveled together around the Capital Beltway with a sign in Johnson's honor on the side of the bus and with bags of wrapped gifts inside was because of the man they lost.

Debbie Nichols, a transit coordinator, said what many of her co-workers felt: "If this had happened to someone else, he would have been the one who came forth and did something for the family."

When a fellow driver's transmission went out, Johnson, who was 35, picked up the man on the way to work for three weeks until his car was repaired. When the sniper began shooting people in the Washington area, one of Johnson's fellow drivers worried about her safety, so Johnson met her in the parking lot at the top of the hill and walked her down the open stairs to the depot.

Johnson, who was born in Jamaica, came to the United States when he was 10. He was soft-spoken, likable and easy to be around. He liked the Lakers, the Bulls, the passengers he saw nearly every day on Bus No. 34. At Johnson's funeral, one passenger told a story about being ill and Johnson calling him at home a few miles from his stop so the man wouldn't have to wait long. Johnson's friends say if you wanted to get him talking, you asked about his boys. His neighbors say he and the boys were often outside together washing their Camry and Nissan or playing basketball.

Nichols got the idea to do something for Johnson's children one restless night in November when she could not stop thinking about what had happened. All her co-workers were similarly wondering how Johnson's family, his widow, Denise, and his sons, DeVohn, who will be 7 on Sunday, and Dante, 14, would cope with the holidays.

The night before Johnson was killed, Nichols had urged him to apply for a promotion, from driver to transit coordinator. Johnson said he was not interested because his boys needed him around.

That was your excuse the last time, she said.

Until they're grown, that will be my excuse, he said.

Although Johnson had only 10 years of experience in the job, and shifts are distributed based on seniority, he had secured a split shift that allowed him to be home on weekends with his sons.

Because his children meant so much to him, the idea to buy them gifts was well-received at the depot. So was the idea for driver Braxton Wiggins to dress as Santa and arrive on the bus. Soon after Nichols first mentioned the notion to her office manager, Debbie Poole, and pitched it to the section chief, Vlacich, the depot buzzed with activity.

Losing Johnson was like losing a member of the family. Drivers are such a close bunch that one group drove 12 hours from Indiana to be at the funeral and show their support. The drivers at the Silver Spring depot are so tight that Johnson's fellow drivers didn't want his bus sent to another depot and replaced. They wanted it kept near as a memorial to him.

The job requires drivers to spend much of their day on the road, and they don't often have enough time between shifts to make a trip home worthwhile. They become close when they gather in the lounge and pass the time playing checkers, chess and pool, and watching the news or the weather or game shows on television.

Despite the TV, few had heard of SpongeBob SquarePants when the character's name appeared on the wish list for Johnson's younger boy.

That's another reason they made yesterday's trip.

"Because it's Christmas," said Debbie Nichols, "and Christmas is a time for children, and it's a time to show them how much their father was loved and how much they're loved."

When the 600 full- and part-time department employees heard, they pledged to give $1,200. They did not find a SpongeBob SquarePants toy, but Poole tracked down a PlayStation 2, an Xtreme Moto-X cycle and wrestling figures for DeVohn, and movies, video games and a Charles Woodson Raiders jersey for Dante. Passengers donated when they heard, and when Wiggins was fitted for the Santa outfit, the costume company waived the rental fee after being told the plans.

The Ride On drivers had hoped to present the gifts on Christmas Eve, the one night when all drivers are home by 10 p.m. and no one reports back to work until 5 a.m. the next day, on Christmas morning.

But yesterday was the day Denise Johnson said would be best, so they went, and after it was over, they rode back to the depot, then went home to their families, as Conrad Johnson would have wanted.