the Oasis

Rock Hill’s pioneering, optimistic, all-electric bus fleet ends today. It didn’t have to, and it will be missed.

By Scott Morgan, Managing Editor
May 22, 2026

Let’s remember, you and I, when the tires rolled and people got aboard to ride, en route to work or recreation, or to somewhere far from where they’d come.

And let’s remember who we saw, and who we heard, the flirting and the catching  up, the social cauldron full of bragging over things they’d never done.

And let’s remember who was not in audience for any of the jokes and gibes, who never put an arm around a friend on No. 5, or any other route, to comfort someone who believed that nothing would be fine.

I never saw you there, not you, Miss or Mister Transportation Director, not you Mister City Manager nor Mister Mayor. I saw none of you who make decisions find necessity in public transit, or even just the hint that you might need it.

You weren’t there once all the cameras went away, the day you gathered everyone to say how very much so many things were just about to change. I never saw you hop on, ride for free, and see who may be sitting near you on the way to somewhere you don’t need to be. 

And yet you speak for everyone who rode this bus, who took you up on promises you made to all of us about our future as an eco dream in shining, pale blue chariots.

You speak for them, for us, and even me, who also didn’t use the bus for anything of need, but trusted you, like everyone, that you would do your best for us.

You speak for them, but never rode with them and barely spoke to them unless it was convenient, not for them, but you, who never took a seat to find out what would happen if this went away.

I think of all the projects that you made a big deal of, the some that made it, and the some that, not so much, and how at least you paid to build the palaces for pickle ball and Ocho sports, for tourists who can leave you five star ratings.

I really wish I could have seen investment in the inconvenient people. Are the parks for them? I hope so. You’re about to see them back again.

I see and hear you speak on their behalf, without you having lived their other half, but never saw you in a seat or standing in the back, to talk to them, to learn how much they need you to stay there for them.

I don’t pretend it would have changed your minds, so now the only thing that’s left is to remind you of the choice you made, and to remind you that you don’t just get to walk away without the understanding of the thing you’ve done.