Among 16 of my peers near a thin, green, metal post with a sign that read “Jaguar Express,” I stood in front of University Hall, watching the large shuttle bus creep its way around the main entrance fountain. Many times I wondered what it would be like to ride the shuttle system here on campus. Even more, does anyone use it? I figured, after three years at this university, the only way to know for sure would be to ride it myself.
Whatever silence lingered at the shuttle stop was interrupted by the brief release of air from the brakes as the doors flung open. A few moments passed and once it was realized that no one was exiting; the 16 filed inside. As I stepped in, I was greeted by the bus driver, an older African-American man with inviting grin and a black hat with “ASU” stitched across the front. I paused briefly to survey the open seats and proceeded to the furthest seat possible to allow me to view the shuttle in its entirety.
My neighbor, a cute brunette with blue eyes and an infectious smile, was on her Tuesday and Thursday routine ride to Christenberry Fieldhouse.
“I prefer to take the shuttle to the fieldhouse because I have a night class after my aerobic dance class,” said Christina Leanhart, the junior nursing major to my right. “It’s just too hard to find another good parking spot this late in the day.”
Leanhart, who lives off campus in a Martinez home, said she notices a lot of the people who do ride are typically University Village residents. “Everyone pays the fee to ride the shuttle but more often than not the only riders are those who live in the campus dorms.”
Upon sitting, I immediately took note of my surroundings. The seats were made out of some sort of a blue cloth material and were very clean. The aisles were narrow, litter free. The roof of the shuttle was fitted with speakers every few rows, belting jazz music, making conversation difficult. A flat screen television was mounted above the driver, but at the time, it was not on. An air conditioning unit kept up toward the rear of the bus and steadied the inside temperature comfortably low in contrast the heat exposed shuttle stop.
Leanhart mentioned the shuttle’s cleanliness was comparable to the shuttles she rode while attending Georgia Southern University in her freshman year.
“The only real difference between (Georgia) Southern and here is that they were much bigger,” she said. “Obviously there were a lot more people that rode the bus there since they lived on campus.”
The rest of my fellow passengers were, as a whole, silent except for the young man in front of me. He constantly talked to his neighbor about his upcoming chemistry project and how ridiculous he felt the requirements were.
With the remaining passengers loading and filling what seats that had been vacant, the driver looked at his watch and scribbled the time, 2:32 p.m., onto a clipboard resting next to his foot. The doors folded shut and the shuttle jolted forward.
Karl Munschy, director of business services, said I chose a busy time to ride.
“The shuttles are fairly busy in the 7 a.m. to 7:45 a.m. time frame because people are trying to get to class in time for the 8 a.m. classes,” he said. “In the afternoon it flipflops at around 2 p.m. because students are likely trying to get back to University Village.”
As the shuttle rounded the first corner, the group braced themselves for impact while the bus tilted hard to the left. The shuttle rumbled along the road towards Washington Hall slowing nearly to a stop when speed bumps presented themselves.
Following the perimeter of the campus, the shuttle approached its next stop, the Science Hall where one man stepped off and was quickly replaced by four female passengers. Now with 19 passengers, the driver again noted the time and continued on.
At this point the shuttle left the main campus and traveled down Arsenal Avenue toward McDowell Street. Traffic off campus was moderate which made for a quick trip down Monte Sano Avenue to Central Avenue then leading us in the direction of the water treatment plant.
Once on Highland Avenue everyone directed their attention to the water treatment plant wall highly decorated with murals from local artists. A few people commented on their favorite features and the bus continued down Wrightsboro Road toward Christenberry Fieldhouse.
Munschy said the current path chosen for the Express is considered the most efficient in terms of travel time and fuel costs.
“We had a consultant come in and he actually used GPS coordinates and measured headwinds to test the amount of time and fuel needed for each stop,” he said. “It is a closed loop route which means we don’t stop just anywhere. We only have the four stops and they are all on our property so we can guarantee their safety. The way we have it also gives us the best opportunity to be on schedule.”
This part of the trip seemed to test the integrity of the shuttle as the road is anything but smooth.
With every bump the walls flexed and the windows shook. Those who were talking did so with a hint of vibration in their voice and the shuttle swayed violently on occasion.
“You would think they could fix (the road) at some point,” Leanhart said, while adjusting to the bumps.
This continued until we reached Christenberry where Leanhart and another student exited and no one entered. As Leanhart exited, her word about the average number of riders echoed in my head and I speculated the next stop would leave me a lone rider on a rather large shuttle.
Sure enough, as the shuttle left the Fieldhouse and approached University Village, riders began to gather their things and lean forward in their seats. After circling around the entrance, the shuttle stopped allowing all passengers except me to exit.
The driver looked around then exited the bus for a five minute cigarette break and then reentered to continue on his route. As predicted, many of the student riders were dorm residents yet I had come to find out that all shuttle riders were not strictly dorm residents. There were those like Leanhart who live off campus yet use the shuttle because of the convenience.
The ride back didn’t seem as long. Perhaps it was because I gazed out at the recently paved runway at Daniel Field that I had forgotten how rough the Wrightsboro Road portion of the ride was.
Before I knew it we were back on the main campus swaying around the fountain and abruptly halting in front of University Hall once again. I gathered my belongings and, being the only passenger, awkwardly trekked from my bench in the rear past the driver to the steps.
Before stepping off the final step I heard the driver call out, “You have a nice day now,” as I turned, smiled and continued on my way.