On the Road
2024
Shambe Gaston, 48, begins his shuttle route down East Genesee Street. After making sure all the passengers are safely seated, he starts the bus engine and begins the first of two work shifts of the day. “Man, I’ve been chewing,” Shambe said. “Y’know. Chewing, grinding. I’ve been hustling. We’ve been fucked up for so long; we surviving.” Shambe Gaston was born and raised in a disadvantaged neighborhood in Syracuse or as he calls it, the “Elk Block.” His early life was marked by adversity and a reflection of the deep divisions that persist within the city of Syracuse, often grappling with crime, lack of opportunity, and limited access to quality education. After dropping out of school and serving felony prison time, the harsh reality of growing up in a segregated and unequal society became clear when Shambe struggled to secure quality jobs even after attending Onondaga Community College. Shambe’s journey from the "Elk Block" to his role as a shuttle driver is a testament to his ability to transcend these systemic challenges. His transformative journey on the road from the streets of “Elk Block” to becoming a shuttle driver highlights his success in leaving his past behind for a brighter future.
Erma’s Kitchen, a Jamaican restaurant in Salt City Market, is Shambe’s favorite food spot to spend his lunch break. Shambe (right) runs into his friend, Corey, and they end up discussing Corey’s ongoing federal case. After a long conversation about upcoming court proceedings and the presiding judge, Shambe interrupts Corey. “Man, that’s just bullshit.” he said.
Many struggling individuals seek out the headquarters for the Rescue Mission Alliance, a place of refuge, emergency shelter, and warm meals. Shambe, too, had once frequented the Rescue Mission. In 2013, Shambe celebrated Christmas with hot food and warm lodging provided by the Rescue Mission rather than his typical day of dumpster diving or sleeping under bridges.
Shambe presses his hand against his temple after his bus passengers fail to recognize the name of a notable SU alumni, Vanessa Williams. “You don’t know Vanessa Williams? She famous! Search it up, I ain’t lie to you,” he said. “A lie in the present is bad for the future – right or wrong?”
Shambe (right) embraces the Thomas cousins after revisiting the “Elk Block” again for the first time in more than 20 years. During the reunion, Gaston was questioned about the camera. “They be thinking I'm part of the feds,” he said. “Put that away.”
Shambe reminisces in front of a patch of grass that grew over the land where his childhood home once stood before the city demolished it in favor of developing single-family houses as more affluent and wealthy individuals started moving into Syracuse. Shambe now lives in James Geddes High Rises, a public housing property that is owned and managed by the Syracuse Housing Authority. “The Honeycomb Hideout– I came up with the name,” Shambe said. “I always tell my friends, ‘Come to the Honeycomb Hideout.’ They know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Shambe’s passengers typically quietly scroll on their phones; a silence that is amplified at night. That same peace is also typically interrupted with Shambe’s bold voice. Shambe passes time during his monotonous drives with various calls on the speaker. “Yeah, man. My student is taking me on a fantastic journey in my own city.” he said on the phone.
After parking the shuttle bus, Shambe gets ready to clock out for the night after a long 11-hour shift. “I keep my line in the water,” he said. “Availability is the best ability.”
Over the years, Shambe created a routine that he calls the "pre-trip" bus inspection. He checks the tires, mirrors, lights, and circles the bus for any visible abnormalities. “I respect y’all – studying ain’t easy!” Shambe said. “These students I drive around are the future of America.”
After dropping off his passengers, Shambe opens the bus door to call out to a man on the street. "Hey man, how you doing?” he said. After making a few minutes of small talk, Shambe closes the door and drives off, laughing.“I ain’t know that man.” he said.
Shambe drives the shuttle bus out of the Aspen apartment complex along his routine route towards the Syracuse University campus. On this particular day, Shambe started his day at 7 am sharp, transporting Syracuse University students from their luxury apartment complexes to the college campus – a situation different from his younger years. Despite initially struggling to find quality employment, Shambe eventually pursued a career in one of his passions. “Ever since I was a puppy, I loved cars,” he said. “Cars are my thing.”
On the weekends, Shambe drops passengers off at a local grocery store rather than taking the typical route to the college campus. Despite the constant flow of bus riders, Shambe notices a person missing. “Where your friend at? Is that her?” Shambe asked the Syracuse University student, who points out the passenger lagging behind. “I don’t want to leave her behind.”
Amid Shambe’s clutter, "The Vault" binder remains by his side so he can quickly reference information about the bus. In the spread of his bus necessities is a McDonald’s large sweet tea with lemon slices, Ibuprofen, an umbrella, cleaning supplies, and a fire extinguisher. “Fail to plan and plan to fail,” Shambe said. “You picking up what I'm putting down?”
Shambe takes a seat at a food hall in downtown Syracuse after multiple rounds of being recognized and greeted in the South side of Syracuse, evidence to his reputation and status in the area. “The hood is like a York Peppermint Pattie,” Shambe said, drawing a parallel between his neighborhood and the popular mint chocolate candy. The analogy reflects his life’s journey – decadent, cool, and even a bit controversial. Despite the challenges he has faced on the road, Shambe finds a sense of familiarity and comfort in the community. “I got two words: I’m gone.” he said, hinting at his departure from his past struggles and his determination to drive forward.