Rerouted Hearts

The streets of American University were alive with their usual chaos. Drivers at Ward Circle maneuvered through sharp twists and tight corners, while those on Nebraska Avenue dodged Spin and Lime scooters zipping by. Meanwhile, cars on Massachusetts Avenue sped downtown, weaving through the morning rush.

But amidst the frenzied traffic, one peculiar vehicle stood out: a carbon-neutral, fixed-route university shuttle named WonkBus. She often found herself lagging behind the more experienced vehicles flawlessly moving through the traffic. She was young, frail, and scared that she wasn’t as good as the other vehicles on the road.

WonkBus was always crowded, filled with outdated posters, and seemingly never on time when students needed it the most. She always felt overwhelmed and her motivation to keep serving the AU community was at an all time low. 

Late at night, as the university settled into darkness and quiet, only interrupted by the occasional drunken yell from a freshman pledge, WonkBus pulled into the bus depot behind Anderson Hall and began scrolling through TruthEagle, AU’s very own social media platform.

Her headlights dimmed in the reflection of her phone screen, flashing with harsh criticism: "Loud," "Unreliable," “Another waste of money from the Sylvia Burwell era,” “Clawed gives Wonky a Talon down,” "It barely avoids crashing into traffic!" Each post stung, and she couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever be seen as anything more.

The next morning, WonkBus slowly started up her engines, and oiled up her parts for a new day. The streets of AU were once again bustling with activity.

As students began to trickle out of dorms and commute from all over Washington, D.C., WonkBus couldn’t shake the thought that today would be just another day of struggling. But, there was a small hope deep within her circuits, that maybe, just maybe, today would be different.

As the time turned towards the midday lunch rush, WonkBus pulled into the Tenleytown Wawa for a midday refuel. To her disappointment, the Wawa was ransacked of all carbon-neutral drinks and foods by the nearby Jackson Reed high schoolers. Frustrated, hungry, and almost ready to call it quits, she quietly sobbed at the corner edges of Tenleytown. 

As WonkBus sat quietly at the corner, the low rumble of an approaching vehicle grew louder. She didn’t expect much, just another car rushing by, but then she saw him.

W-M-A-T-A. Red and blue “metrobus” signage on its side. WonkBus had never seen anything like it. MetroBus rolled into Tenleytown with a quiet, smooth confidence that took Wonkbus completely by surprise. She wasn’t sure why, but her engine buzzed, her headlights flickering in a rhythm she never felt before. 

As the MetroBus doors opened, and a few passengers hopped on, he was completely unaware of the quiet admiration going on. But, in a way, it wasn’t just admiration, it was something different that WonkBus couldn’t quite explain. As the MetroBus doors shut and continued southbound on Wisconsin Avenue, WonkBus couldn’t help but ignore a feeling growing inside her engine. It was love at first sight.

WonkBus continued her route up and down Nebraska Ave for the rest of the day. But no matter how many stops she made, or different routes she took, MetroBus never appeared again. She couldn’t stop thinking about that quiet interaction. She hadn’t felt this feeling—desire, connection, perhaps… love?—since her previous relationship.

WonkBus had a history of chasing after unavailable vehicles, or toxic (fossil fueled) vehicles in the past. Some buses just had too many miles on their engines. A bus named Vern, serving the GW campus, cheated on her with a bus named Hoya. Vern had been seeing Hoya in secret by taking midnight routes along the same streets Hoya traveled. It was Wonkbus’ first enginebreak, leaving her in the mechanic shop for weeks. 

Maybe… This time could be different.

As the sun went down once again, WonkBus strolled back into the Bus Depot to rest and catch up with the day’s TruthEagle posts:

“From WonkBus to WonkWreck” said a headline from The Rival. 

“We will be working with the Alger Administration to find alternatives to replace WonkBus” said a post from Eaglon Musk.

“WonkBus is an egregious insult to public transportation” posted GW supremacist account, WonksOfTiktok.

For some reason, this time, these insults didn’t affect WonkBus. The criticisms seemed to fade into the background. What mattered now was MetroBus. All she could think about was MetroBus.

“Tomorrow will be different,” she thought to herself. Tomorrow, she would be better, even if she isn't sure how yet. Maybe she could fix her outdated posters, get some new paint, or find a faster route. Whatever it took, she was going to be seen. Because right now, the only thing that mattered was catching the attention of MetroBus. 

The next day, she woke up early, before the sun had even risen. At 5 a.m. she started by peeling down the old, faded posters and replacing them with fresh, updated designs. She even took a little extra time to wash her exterior, scrubbing the grime off to make her look brand new.

By the time TDR opened and the first Hillterns came out, ready to do “very important” things at work to brag needlessly about, WonkBus was ready. She was there, on schedule, clean, and, like, a completely different bus. She was ready to show MetroBus, and herself, that she could be more.

Midday, and her lunch break came around. She waited patiently in Tenleytown. Minutes went by without a trace of MetroBus. Did she miss getting a glance of him? Right as her lunch break was about to end, and she was ready to leave, she heard a rumble from the distance. Fixing her mirrors, she saw it was him. MetroBus, rolling elegantly like the flutter of Clawed Z Eagle’s wings.

For a few seconds, their headlights crossed. Then, without a word, he continued on. WonkBus idled and saw him disappear towards Georgetown. Her engine sank. She had hoped for something more, an acknowledgement perhaps? 

“What did I do wrong?” WonkBus thought. Wiper-fluid started to run down her windshield. She felt defeated. She did so much to get MetroBus’ attention, and to no avail. Near the end of her shift and on her way home, WonkBus was waiting at a streetlight in Tenleytown, trying to suppress her tears. The light had just turned red.

For a moment, she saw him, MetroBus coming down the road. Her headlights flickered with excitement, and positioned herself so she would be right next to him. The sound of her engine rumbled with nervous energy.

As he pulled up at the intersection, it seemed like the red light dragged on. WonkBus glanced over at MetroBus. There he was, his red and blue "metrobus" decals gleaming in the sunset’s glow. For a moment, she considered saying something, anything. 

"Hey," she thought, "maybe just a small compliment. Start with something simple." But as the words formed from her front bumper, her engine stalled. What would she say? Would it sound too desperate? Too forward? Would he even acknowledge her?

And then, as if Wonk Cat had planned it, the light flickered green.

She couldn’t let this moment slip away again. MetroBus was right there, just a few feet away. This was her chance, maybe her last chance to be noticed.

Her wheels spun, faster than ever before.

But something wasn’t right.

WonkBus misjudged the distance between them. A sharp corner ahead of them loomed closer. Her tires screeched, and she panicked, and she swerved.

And then, boom.

WonkBus slammed into a streetlight with a loud crash. Her front end crumpled, metal twisted upon impact. Her headlights shattered, glass exploding in all directions, while her bumper was gone. 

Through her cracked windshield, she could see headlights approaching her. As she was fading in and out of consciousness, she heard something.

“Hey!” A smooth, sleek voice became louder, “I’m here for you, WonkBus!”

WonkBus’s lights barely flickered, and for a moment she felt something she hadn’t in a long time, comfort. 

Her engine went silent, and her dashboard faded to dark.