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  • Kendall Wright

SaltCo Drives Cambuses to Raise Awareness; “One Route, One God”

Saltco and a bus

As everyone at the University knows, Cambus is desperate for drivers. At this point, they’ll hire anyone who’s played Mario Kart at least once. Thankfully for them, ’tis the season for some kind-hearted, God-fearing young adults to make their presence known on campus.

SaltCo, a Tiffin-based church group 🙌🙏, has volunteered to drive for Cambus amidst the shortage of drivers. I thought this was an interesting idea, so I rode a Cambus driven by one of Saltco’s Jesus soldiers; this is my story.

I took the Red Route, which they had renamed The Blood of Christ. I could hear music by one popular Christian band, Big Daddy Weave—a name I thought God would be ashamed of. Upon entering, volleyballs were scattered across the floor of the bus, which made it impossible to walk to my seat without tripping. A girl with the most extreme side part I had ever seen and a tithing bowl in her hands approached me, asking for money to further fund Cambus (I knew she was lying and that it was going to supplement one of their weirdly intimate recruiting events).

The bus driver, dressed in a “Jesus is my slime” shirt accelerated so aggressively, a volleyball pelted a passenger in the head; nobody checked to make sure she was okay. Above the riders heads were signs shitting on SaltCo’s rival, PepperCo, saying “PepperCo loves gay people…. OH NO!😭😭” and “Members of PepperCo are sinners in God’s eyes! Repent now!!!”

It didn’t take me long to realize that the bus was not going the typical direction of the Red Route. We drove further and further away from campus and eventually merged onto Highway 218 South. The driver took the Hills exit and stopped the vehicle in a random field.

The Christbus driver told us to get off and grab a paper cup from the girl with the fucked hair part. Once we exited and gathered in the field, a huge group of people brought out large jugs filled with a mysterious liquid; there were more SaltCo members on the bus than I thought. All of a sudden the other passengers and I were circled by unfashionable, NPC-looking young adults, chanting “One route, One God, One route, One God” and encouraging us to drink their holy jungle juice. I made a beeline for the highway and hitchhiked back to my apartment.

The next day, I filed a formal complaint to our fearless leader, Barbara Wilson, regarding what had just happened. Her response was short:

“Their actions are covered under the University’s Freedom of Speech policy. They have the right to force their beliefs on you, abduct you, and poison you if they please. Don’t be such a pussy.



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