LOL! My Dad did the same - and for the Sunday newspaper. I always got a tip to spend on candy...
In the 50s when I was eight and my sister was seven we rode the city buses in Portland, Oregon to a Neighborhood House day camp. We had to change buses at the Yamhill stop which was huge with many connecting buses. We did that for two years. The camp was three-fourths black and all the kids got along fine.
I suppose my mom figured we would be okay since it would be the the Ransom of Red Chief with the two of us little rascals out there in the ghetto. We rode through really poor areas where folks were lined up at soup kitchens.
My parents were from North Dakota where all the kids had grown up free-range and saw no need to change the plan.