What I've Been Thinking

Random thoughts from behind the wheel from the last few months.

> Ever since the American "excursion" into Iran, gas prices have spiked and I've kind of been on alert as to what it means to the hustle. What I'm seeing so far is more aggressive panhandling. My move historically has been to give a slow "No" head shake on approach, because it's a volume business for them, and I don't want to give false hope. As you move from daylight to late night (my usual shift), the sightings lessen. 

What seems to be happening now is the desperation is rising, so you see them in more places and for longer periods of time. You also, if it's late enough, get folks walking straight in front of your car, gesticulating more wildly, and just getting more intimidating.

My car is modest, a decade old, with some light cosmetic damage from a past deer strike, and prominent rideshare platform signage. I am not now, nor have ever been, a picture of rolling consumption and affluence. That no longer matters, because the margins for everyone on the road have been cut. As always, it impacts those with the least first.

> When costs for drivers rise, fewer people do it. My car gets 45 miles per gallon, so I'm much better off than most on this, but I'm still tempted to call it a day sooner when things get slow. So I have to think that surge prices are up (my per hour gross rates are higher, my net is the same), and wait times for passengers are longer. This hasn't turned into direct hostility from passengers to my knowledge, but I still insist on starting the ride with amenities that most drivers do not offer, so maybe that experience isn't the same for others.

> If you are of a certain age, you might remembr the movie version of the Who's rock opera "Tommy", in which the central character withdraws following a childhood trauma, and does not seem to see, hear or speak. Eventually he breaks out of this and becomes a religious figure who uses his past experience with his followers, with the lyric "Put on your earphones, put on your eye shades, you know where to put the cork."

And when passengers, many of them single travelers and younger, enter my car with headphones on and a prayerful pose to their omnipresent phone, all I can think is... I need to put some corks in the seatbacks.

Passengers of the world, I get it. You've had a day, and maybe this time in the car is the only respite you're going to get. You may be catching up to things you have had to let slide for entirely too long. Life is unseemly and many drivers are not going to say things you want to hear, and part of you is actively looking forward to self-driving cars that will seem less awkward and more safe. 

But the awkwardness you are feeling from basic human interactions will not dissipate with even fewer of them, and a society where a spiraling number of people aren't supporting themselves... is going to be more awkward still. 

So. Interact with the driver. Briefly, if you like. Confirm the identity and destination. Maybe engage in a little small talk, or at the very least, apologize for your upcoming isolation. Let's all treat each other the way we'd like to be treated, instead of a nuisance to be endured. It's a better ride and world, I promise.

> Speaking of driver interactions... there's an increasing amount of survelliance happening with the platforms pushing for dash cams, and presumptive recording of the ride's audio by either the driver or passenger's phone. I've had false accusations and platform deactivations in the past, which has caused fiscal harm, so I get it.

But I can't help but think that the trade off isn't worth it. That's computing power run amok (so, higher electicity and water bills for everyone, along with climate change consequences) with a side of constant state survalliance, and it's a when, not an if, for a gross misuse of that data to occur. And that's not even my biggest problem with it.

I'm an adult. In a country where free speech is supposed to be a core human right. And when you decide to chill it by pre-emptively recording it because you have decided that I am guilty until never proven innocent by dint of my choice of hustle, I'm going to... say only sanitized things, and very few of them, because that's the world you've created.

So those amenities? Not discussed. Restaurant reviews? Nope. Tips that might save you time and money in your next ride? Not on record. Chance that your rating is going to get a star or two taken away because I don't enjoy the world you are helping to enable? (Silence.)

> Finally, this. There are advantages to society, specifically known as a "network effect", when people are more or less on the same schedule. If most people don't have the weekend off, then weekends lose their utility, because you can't plan events that will be as well-attended. If most people have common songs in their lives, we can all sing along to them at ball games. If jokes reference events that everyone has heard of, they land with more people. And so on.

And when that effect is weakened, something is lost.

I'd point out how this impact rideshare, but, well, you can just read the earlier points and connect the dots, yes?

Silent Running

The downsides of gig work are many, but the most obvious one is a lack of paid sick time. I tend to have a reasonable constitution and steady habits, so an illness has to be pretty potent to get me off the road. And ever since the pandemic, the idea of making someone else ill with whatever I've got has been a big, well, no.

So this weekend, I picked up a bug, bombed it with meds and felt good enough to work and not be contagious... but I've lost my voice. This isn't the first time that I've had this happen, due to a youth spent singing in rock bands, but it is new to this age of life, which involves rideshare.

There is nothing like the absence of an ability to make you focus on that ability, and you may be surprised by how much conversation happens in the course of a shift. If nothing else, the reflexive action of confirming name and address, as well as the presence of amenities or use of the trunk, is off the table... and if your passengers have a conversation that ties into your particular interests, or with obvious errors that you might be able to correct or inform, it's a kind of mild torture.

But for the most part, being forced to be silent as a driver is just the way this driver is choosing to do the work on this day, and some passengers won't even notice, especially if they are wearing headphones or on a phone conversation during the call. I suspect it's generally a negative practice for inspiring tipping, but small sample sizes do not inspire confidence.

Because the Rideshare Gods are funny, or depending on how you look at things, merciful... the shift that had the most Silent Running was, of course, during a good amount of surge price. Can't talk? Have fares that want to. Can talk? Have fares that don't. Leading to one of the last ones of the night, a multi-stop affair where I've got so much to say to the last passenger that, at the end of the ride, I'm furiously jotting down contact info on a post-it note.

Freedom of speech, folks. Pops up in the weirdest places.

The Command Performance

 I've been doing this for over 9 years and 40,000 rides now, and for the past few, I've really been making the effort to stay closer to home, even if it costs me a few bucks or takes me a little extra time. The chance of getting into some kind of automotive trouble spikes further away, whether it's a flat tire, missed signal, etc., etc., and I also enjoy being able to give local recommendations for food and such. If your rideshare driver is stressed, that can't be good for tips, either -- and my tips percentage has definitely gone up over the years.

The side effect of this is how, especially when your hours are relatively consistent (i.e., I usually work nights), you are going to run into the same customers from time to time. And when your ride is distinctive, or you insist on consistently quirky amenities, it gets memorable.

Which can be a little awkward, because, well, I've got a go to list of conversational tactics and topics that I'll hit, rather than risk driving while doing Serious Thinking. And as much as you might want me to stick to playing the hits... you probably actually, well, don't.

So, if you get in the car and recognize me, by all means, feel free to start a conversation. But give me something new to work with, because (spoiler alert)... I probably don't remember the last time I took you somewhere, given the, um, 40,000 rides.

Also, this. 

If I *do* remember everything we talked about the last time?

I might not have done so, with, shall we say, perfect kindness and charity...

Amuse-bouche bloglets

An amuse-bouche, for those of you who don't do the French, is a small bite of something tasty to tide you over until a real meal happens. Which also tends to happen when you work the hustle routinely; things that aren't a full story, but worthy of note on their own. Including, but not limited to... 

> There is no weather that will force Certain Women who attend Greek college events to wear a protective layer of clothing. On some level, you have to admire the commitment.

> There is also no weather that will keep Angry Old White Drunks from fighting in the streets of Trenton. I can only assume it had something to do with a halftime show being mostly in Spanish.

> A recant fare chose to purchase a ride for a guest, who they then gave the name of (g-word) (n-word), only without my web subtlety. The fare canceled the ride, which gave me the easiest $3.90 of the day, and presumably made the purchaser have to do it again. I'm not here to shame anyone for how they choose to spend their money, but, um...

> I picked up a Fredo, who did not (gravitas on) BREAK MY HEART. (If you don't get the reference, either I am too old, or you are too young, and maybe both.)

> I recently picked up a local college football player who was discussing his post-school options, most of which involved "the three-letter agencies." He was giving up his final year of eligibility, rather than risk his future earning power to repeated injury. Which made me think, well, if you actually are concerned about athletic achievement, I know of one three-letter agency you won't be applying to...

> There is a local chicken place in The Hood which is called "Super Pollo." It has a superhero chicken carrying a covered round plate, which presumably meanse his superpower is to kill and sell his friends and family for money. There is also a "Super Pollo 2". 

Whenever I drive past these places, my mind starts to imagine 

a) the rest of the Super Pollo Cinematic Universe, possibly with side order sidekicks

b) a Tupac-Bigge style rap battle between Super Pollo 1 and Super Pollo 2

c) having lucha libre wrestlers fight each other in Super Pollo 1 and Super Pollo 2 costumes, preferably on the sidewalk outside the restaurant

d) how, if I had All The Moneys In The World, all of this work would exist, and 

e) how it is probably for the best that I do not have All The Moneys In the World.

> Marketing slogan for a beer in the hood: "It Ain't Gonna Drink Itself." Well, the truth is important...

> Recent email from Uber: "Let's stop human trafficking, together". Which my suspicious mind read as a tacit admission that Uber's been up to some things, and is making a very big presumption on me...

When restaurant reviews take a turn

I try to work local to my home. It's easier on the wallet, kidneys, shock absorbers, etc. It also lets me trade off restaurant reviews with other locals, which tends to be (a) not very divisive as conversations go, (b) conducive to good learning, and (c) a good leading indicator in front of a tip.

I'm engaged in this with a recent passenger in a rougher neighborhood that's close to mine. I tell her how my favorite Chinese place is next to a car wash and will discount if you pay cash. She replies with how her favorite is... behind bulletproof glass.

This hustle reminds you to be grateful in, well, so many ways...

Tilt

I play poker, and there's a term that players use when someone is emotionally compromised and making bad decisions. We call it "going on tilt." 

When you are there, you might suspect you are, but your perceptions aren't level, and you fail Absent a great deal of statistically unlikely events, you are about to hand your chips over to someone else.

Recently, I've had personal experience with a loved one encountering a mental health episode. It's better now, and we are all grateful. 

But the sense of helplessness that one has when in the presence is palpable. For this person, the issue manifested as paranoid delusions, which were, of course, impossible to refute with words or logic. You just had to be patient, wait them out, and have faith that it was not the new (ab)normal. It was one of the worst periods of my life, and like any of these cycles, I responded the same. A general numbness and trudging but persistent work to distract myself.

So, that's the prologue. Now, the ride story.

The ping comes in late in the evening on a day where I haven't made my target. Uber has dangled a surge price to keep me on the road, which has now faded. So I either take the next ride, regardless of condition or terms, or I lose the surge. I'm taking the next one unless it's completely outlandish. The ping comes in, and it's local. OK.

The pick up is supposed to be at a local 7-11. I get to the store and there is only one car in the parking lot, which I am presuming is the employee's. I wait for five minutes, no one shows or replies to my text, and I can cancel for a small fee. I do and head for home. 

Two minutes later, the same name appears, but at an address. Oh... kay? Still have the surge price to chase, after all.

I roll up to the address, about five minutes from the 7-11. After a couple of minutes, the passenger makes his way to the car, and there's something... off... about him. He's a white guy probably in his 30s, tall, thin, dark clothing, and vibrating. Oh boy. He gets in the car, does not acknowledge my patter or the address confirmation (it's the 7-11), and off we go.

It is my standing practice to not make a lot of eye contact with passengers. There's no real reason for it, and if you are looking at your passenger, you aren't looking at the road. Over nine years, 39K+ rides, and relative safety and high tipping tells me this is a reasonable position to take. 

So I can't and won't see if he's on the phone or not when he says what he says, which is... conspiratorial. Paranoid. Profane. Political. And all said at a pace that reminds me of listening to podcasts at accelerated speed, and at a volume that I can't quite ignore. 

This is what real crazy looks like. Not theatric, not captivating, not a star turn from an actor with a meaty part, not well written or with memorable phrases. It's repetitive and upsetting and it makes you uneasy, because somewhere in the back of your primate brain you realize that everything about this person is wrong, and wrong might be contaigous. Or lead to unexpected outcomes.

Five minutes later, we're at the 7-11. He gets out and goes in and now I can't really trot out my excuse to not make eye contact, because there he is in the store. Through the glass I can see him vibrate, see his mouth move, but I can't see if there's anyone near him. This goes on for three minutes. I can't end the ride until five. I have no idea what he's doing, or why it's taking so long, or what is going to happen next. He leaves with a pack of cigarettes, gets into my car, and it's quieter for the five minutes back, but not quite quiet. At the drop, he leaves without incident. Still ranting.

Three stars or less means I never see him again, of course, and that seems like a no-brainer of a decision. The first rule of rideshare is get home safe, and this didn't feel that way at all. 

On the other hand... he paid surge price (and a cancel fee), he didn't make me wait longer than most fares, and on some level, I don't want people like him to never get fares, because that hardly seems like it will help his situation. There could be any number of good and understandable reasons for the way he is, and, well? I didn't 3-star my loved one when they had their rough stretch.

I think about it for too long, and it sticks in me and sparks this post. I eventually did give him three, if for no other reason than it stuck in my head long enough to curtail my earnings, and that's not a practice to support.

A college professor back in the day in my political science course once attributed the quote of "human rights are for countries that can afford them" to a dictator. I haven't been able to track which one (Fidel Castro?), and since dictators tend to come outside of English as a first language (that's what we in poker would call a tell, folks), I'm not sure it was ever really said that way. 

But the point applies. Compassion may also be for people who can afford it. Which doesn't really get my fare out of my head...

What I think, but do not reply

The ping comes in for a pickup at the train station, and I'm about 10 minutes away. A woman's name in all caps with a lower than usual rating has some yellow flags on it, but I need to bump my acceptance numbers and business is always light after the New Year. I accept the ride and start to make my way to the pick up.

Two minutes later, there's a text from the passenger. "I AM WAITING"

And yes, a kind reply would be to assume age, or newness to the platform, or that she just pressed send too fast and was going to give a location next. 

But kindness is not where my inner (inner?) hack comedy writer lives, so I consider the following replies...

OH NOOO NOT THAT

Teleportation costs extra

I AM DRIVING

Tragic

Enjoy that

And record a voice note to my snarky family looking for other options, all while continuing to make my way to the pickup.

She cancels a minute later, adding a few bucks to the day's take. And, of course, the memories...

A Drive Best Served with Cringe

The pick up is suburban with a driveway, so I pull in. My passenger isn't waiting for me, so I k-turn and wait, and catch up on email. A few minutes later, my guy appears at the door and asks for assistance, as he's using a walker. I pop out, try and fail to fold down the device, and eventually just fold down the back seats of the hatchback and put him in the front seat. This is also where I'm getting a whiff of unwell about him, but the job is like that sometimes, and the drop off at a supermarket isn't too far away. Forward.

Since he's in the front seat, small talk is more likely, and I like the shifts where that happens more than the ones where it doesn't. I ask him if he's been in the area long, which is usually my entry into restaurant recommendations and the like, when he replies with something I wasn't anticipating. "No, I'm from Trenton, and I'm homeless."

I offer condolences before a particularly awkward silence, which he eventually ends with, "It's my cousin's fault."

Having nothing to add to this, we drive in silence for another half a minute, as I wonder if turning up music would be a little too obvious. Before I can decide, he adds, "It's OK. I will have my revenge."

Which somehow prompts me to reply, "Well, you know what they say, the best revenge is a life well lived..." 

Which doesn't seem terribly helpful to a person who is, well, homeless. 

He doesn't say anything the rest of the way, and neither do I...

The app is a snitch

In the last month or so, Lyft has started giving me little tidbits about passengers before I accept the ride. "Has tipped on 72% of rides." "Is usually waiting for the driver." "You gave them 5 stars last time."

My guess is that this is all I being done to nudge drivers into taking a higher percentage of rides (while, of course, paying less for those rides, because Enshittification Is Everything Now)... but the reality is that the passengers who behave worse than others are going to find themselves in a spiral of worse service.

And while that seems fine and justified on some level, on another... no. 

Not to get too philosophical about this, but no one is 100% of anything. Some of the worst rated passengers I've ever had turned out to be just fine, but were victimized by a past driver. Some of the best rated passengers seem to get there purely from the power of buying their way out of bad behavior. 

There's also this: judge not, lest ye be judged. Ridesharing is something of a microcosm of society on this, where rating every experience is somewhere on the spectrum of useless because AI slop and disregarding, or hyper-vigilance since the rating can end your income. 

Meanwhile, this: both apps are now doing full-blown invasive telemetrics to determine how "good" of a driver you are. This is determined by harsh braking, speeding, etc. But here's a spoiler on that... if I really want my harsh braking scores to go down, it's easy. I just drive later in the day, when there is less traffic to inspire harsh braking. Or I run more yellow to red lights, since the app isn't bright enough to understand when protecting myself from tickets and collisions is the cause, rather than aggro tailgating and unsafe driving.

This is all, of course, a beta tech problem, and eventually the data will catch up and course correct, but in the meantime?

Everyone probably just needs to give each other a break. 

If a passenger is a little late, stinky or unpolite, I need to chalk it up to the rest of their day, and not a need to punch down on the driver. If your ride isn't quite to your preference (depending on the passenger, I'm either too slow, fast, chatty or robotic)... maybe look in the mirror and question the importance of the complaint.

Or why, exactly, we want to live in a surveliiance state in the first place.

Rider Behavior

It's quarter to three in the morning, and I'm about $20 away from hitting the daily goal. It's been a busy shift, but not a very lucrative one, so it's been a long day. I get a ping in Princeton for a 20 minute ride south, no surge, that will get me fairly close to goal and home. Maybe even goal with a tip. Hope springs eternal.

The location is near a hotel, but the avatar that denotes the location of the passenger's phone isn't there. It's at a spur road off Route 1, about a tenth of a mile away. I drive to the avatar, pull over to the side, hit the hazards and roll down the window. It's not a particularly safe spot to stop, but the world works differently in the middle of the night for drunk people, and you accommodate from past experience.

My presumed fare is sitting off the side of the road against a property fence, some 100 feet away, and inconsolable. Appears to be a white woman, likely college age. Her companion, similar age male, who I presume called for the Uber on her phone, tells her the Uber is here. She won't move, won't stand, demands her phone, and screams about a person who has, in her opinion, shown herself not to be her friend due to her actions. It's very much a raging fit, at a volume that doesn't bode well.

He pulls out his own phone, calls someone else, tells them she won't get in the car. 

This lathers, rinses and repeats for several minutes.

What I want to tell her, but will not because esoteric and off-putting, is that every person on the earth is descended from a very small group of humans who refused to die after a massive volcanic eruption killed all but a few hundred of us, huddling in caves for years, starving and scared, until it was safe to go one.

What I want to say, but will not because rude, is that I am doing a job, and until you get in the car, I am doing it for free. At a time when I can not do jobs for free, obviously, because I'm out in the middle of the night, by the side of the road, waiting for someone to stand up and get into a car.

What I want to do, but will not because not my place, is tell her that when you make your problems the problems of other people (let alone complete strangers and professional service workers)... that's a tell. About your boundaries, your empathy, your competence, your privilege. It's not a good tell.

I've waited three minutes. If I wait another two with her not getting in the car before I cancel the ride, I get a little less than four dollars. And if she actually gets up and gets in the car during this time, I get 20 more minutes of this, for no surge price, and likely no tip.

I check the app. There's surge price nearby. 

The first rule of rideshare is a simple one: get home safe. I

The second rule of rideshare is also simple: we are doing this for money. A ticket from a cop for stopping here would ruin the entire day of work, or more. Not driving a fare at this hour, when fares are scarce, is also not advisable. Let alone fares that might pay surge price, or, well, get in the car.

I check the app for cancellation reasons. Here's the one: rider behavior. I cancel the ride, drive away, as the male yells for me not to. Surge price is activated, but no other requests come for the next 20 minutes, and I call it a night, resolving to...

Work a little more the next day to cover the shortfall.

Which I should be doing now, instead of writing this.

Forward. Honoring the stubborn ancestors.

Somehow, I did not believe Royal Rich

 The pick up is in New Brunswick, middle of the day, senior living building. An older gentleman with a walker makes his way to the car. It turns out that I'm taking him a casino about 45 minutes south in another state, so I make a little conversation. His game is poker, which I also play. We discuss various rooms in the area and what he likes and doesn't like about the game, and I give him the usual tips on saving a few bucks on rideshare rides, and why the price keeps changing and getting worse for him.

During the ride, he mentions how, in the room he's about to go play, he once got Royal Flushes in Texas Hold-Em on consecutive hands, and that ever since that blessed day, he's been called Royal Rich by the dealers there.

Now, the odds of hitting a royal are something like 650K to 1, and in decades of play, I've seen two live. Paid one, hit the other. Two in a row, according to the Internet query I just made while writing this post, are 422 trillion to one. But he's insistent, 82, and the passenger. Who am I to tell him he's wrong?

I drop him at his preferred spot and he tells me... the tip will be in the app.

There is, of course, no tip later. But you already knew that, yes?

All it takes is one

Twice in the last week, friendly passengers have asked if I carry a weapon while doing this. When I replied without a direct response, but cited the number of rides I've given without need of one, they decided they had the answer they needed, and I must be crazy. "All it takes is one crackhead," said one passenger, a retired police from Florida, as if said crackhead had a rideshare account in good standing, a phone, and the desire to make trouble for someone doing them a service while carrying no cash. But if you only ever see people on one of the worst days of their lives, I guess it makes that kind of behavior feel like the default.

And after all, all it takes is one.

Two days ago, the pick up is in Trenton, four middle to high school boys, ten minute ride while they see if they can get a rise out of me with asks like "How much for this car?" and "Pull over, I'mma gonna shoot someone", along with comments about who's gay for who and so on. One of the four is apologizing about the conduct of the other three, but they are all laughing and it's a nice day out, and the first rule of rideshare is get home safe, so I let it all wash over me and drop them at their point. A block away, I give them 3 stars so that I don't have to do that again anytime soon, and get back to my day.

This kind of ride happens every few weeks or so on average, usually with drunken teens at night, and I've learned over the years not to take it personally. It's just going to happen sometimes, and it doesn't really mean anything. 

An hour later, as I'm toggling back and forth between the apps, Uber won't open and tells me that my account has been suspended. So for the next day, I'm working just Lyft, which costs me some money and gets me into a mental rabbit hole. Has Uber been listening to my conversations? Some passengers have that set for rides, and while I try to remember to be circumspect when they do that, it's easy to forget if someone engages in conversation. 

Did I say something to someone that offended? Is my style of work (bouncing between apps, trying to maximize ROI) no longer acceptable to Uber? Is this their way of getting away from a less profitable driver in a car that, while spotless, is 10+ years old and small? You're working by yourself for so many hours, and there's nothing to stop you from just ruminating.

The next morning, Uber is still not working, so I start the shift as Lyft only, with the resolution to see if I can get through the entire day while not saying any word that is not 100% necessary. That lasts for the better part of four hours because money, and it's in the middle of another quiet ride that my phone rings. Uber security, calling to follow up on a complaint that got my account suspended. I mention the teens, and the complaint came shortly after I dropped them. 

The report that Uber is investigating claimed that I was sexually aggressive, touching passengers, and trying to get personal information, with some particularly soft-porn details that don't seem terribly feasible in broad daylight with witnesses. After laughing, I explain the unlikelihood of any of that (monogamous, straight, 9 years, 36K+ rides, near 5.0 record, a substitute teacher, homeowner, father, husband, college graduate, etc.) and the likely motivation of the people filing the report. The investigator agrees and notes that this all just protocol, and asks if I have a dashcam camera (no, don't want to live in a survalliance state), or if I've ever engaged in any of a number of obviously questionable acts (again, protocol to ask). My Lyft passenger, hearing this from the back seat, shakes his head and says "People are crazy" a lot.

Several hours later, the account is reinstated, and I go back to my usual methods.

So, yeah, all it takes is one. 

One false report to get your account suspended and cost you money and good will.

One group of kids behaving badly to make you think you have no option but to self-censor. 

One incident to make you think about complying with constant survalliance and a loss of privacy.

And later, one good passenger, conversation and tip to make you forget about living your life in fear, because living a life in fear just isn't worth it.

Because when you do that, you get to spend all your time in the presence of someone you don't really like. 

Mostly because they are just so goddamned afraid of everything...

End times titty bar

The pick up comes from a motel near a truck stop and is going over state lines. Rough white guy, middle aged, portly, bearded, trucker hat. He's impressed by the amenities and wants to talk. It happens.

Several minutes in, the passenger asks me about my relationship with Jesus, which usually means he wants to talk about his relationship with Jesus, and how these must be the End Times. We do that while I defuse and distract, and after a good word or three, he's decided I'm a wise man, and it's time to go deep into his life, which means a confession that he's... going to the titty bar. 

Because he just wants to smell it, you see, and those ladies are working, and is that so wrong? I know enough to weigh in with "Judge not, lest ye be judged", and he's wondering about whether the titty bar will have an ATM (seems likely, though not free).

Two minutes later, after a pump fake for a 7-11, I'm dropping him off, and he's greasing my palm with a folded 20, 10 and 5 -- $35 cash tip for a 15-minute ride. He later tips an additional $9 in the app. And as he looks me in the eye and thanks me for the ride, he says, "God bless America."

Ayup...

Recently seen on the streets of Trenton

5-star, which is to say no reason to not pick them up again, pick ups for 

Charlanda -- who was not a Pokemon

Santa -- who did not have the spirit of Christmas in them

Adolphus -- who was not a white supremacist

Bertha - who was not notable for her size

Someone with a T-shirt that read: IDK IDC IDGAF -- perhaps the most Wal-Mart thing to ever wear to a Wal-Mart, which worked, given that my pick up was at the Wal-Mart

A woman wearing red shorts and a half shirt at 11pm at night in 50-degree weather yelling "IT'S GODDAMN SUMMERTIME!" to no one in particular. She then saw me in my car, and yelled at a significantly lower volume, "HELLO"

It's not quite the same level of notable fare to passenger ratio that I got in San Francisco, but still, entertaining...

Top 5 Songs You (Probably) Don't Want To Hear During Your Rideshare Ride

Alas, most NSFW.

 5) Aphex Twin, Come to Daddy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ827lkktYs

4) Stan, Eminem

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOMhN-hfMtY

3) The Kars4Kids jingle on repeat

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8UV7SAhvG4

2) Bad Habit, The Offspring

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJi2ZaF_MA0

1) Don't Give Up, Peter Gabriel

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjEq-r2agqc

Are you going to take me to my birthday?

The request comes in for a pick up off Cass Street in Trenton, which is to say the other side of the oldest operating state prison in the United States. It is, as you might expect, an area where the roads aren't in great condition, and rideshare drivers tread cautiously for fear of tire failure. It's late on a weeknight, and there are Department of Corrections trucks with full lights on the block. 

The work is the work. I pull over, text my passenger, and wait.

A minute later, a cute little girl appears on the sidewalk, staring wide-eyed at me in my car. Seconds later, her presumed mother appears, opens the door, and they are in. Before I can recite the destination, the little girl, standing in the middle back seat area with full eye contact, asks me "Are you going to take me to my birthday?" 

Having had little kids once upon a time, I reply, "Sure", in my best kind adult voice, and she thanks me with the sincerity that only very little children can generate. I confirm the address with her mom, who avails herself of the trunk. We eventually make our way out of the neighborhood, en route to a roadside motel south of the city.

It's a 15-minute ride, and what usually happens with little kids in my car is that my safe, slow and smooth driving style and warm cozy car puts them to sleep after a few minutes. 

The same goes for drunk people. Feature, Not Bug.

Not in this case. For the entirety of the ride, the little one sings an improvised song about her birthday, all at a kind enough volume, but my car is a quiet hybrid, so I hear it all. It's impossible not to tell the story that she has learned not to be loud for reasons, that the pick up was at the end of an evening that the mother hopes she will not remember, and that the whole thing is straight out of a foreign movie about how life is really like in the United States. 

A block away from the drop, I ask the little girl how old she is going to be, and she tells me three. I reply that I was sure she was turning 86, just to see if I can get her to smile at something silly, but she's not really listening to me, because singing.

The drop comes, and as the mom unloads the trunk, she tells the girl that they are going to celebrate her birthday next week, and its bedtime. There is, of course, no middle of the night birthday party for her at the roadside motel room. She begins to cry, at the same low and considered volume. The mom closes the trunk and they are out of my life.

I drive away and wonder if I'm about to cry as well. 

I'm a little worried when I don't.

Car Towel Peril

Lemme lick that off

This winter in New Jersey has been cold enough so that every minor amount of recipitation has inspired the local authorities to spread rock salt far and wide, so keeping your car presentable with visible lights has been a constant challenge. To solve this, I carry car and dish towels in the car and wipe down the car when I'm waiting for passengers in safe areas, as one does.

The other day while driving, I sneeze several times and absent-mindedly reach for something to clean my face while keeping my eyes on the road... which creates the lovely effect of wiping my face down with rock salt and grime.

I'd like to tell you, Dear Reader, that having learned from this experience, I learned my lesson, changed out the towels, and have made sure I have a dedicted cloth that won't touch the car, since sneezing isn't exactly a unique or unprecedented circumstance.

I'd also like to tell you that it only took one case of this happening, and not two.

I would also, of course, be lying...

I said, Hah Hah

  

I'm at 52nd and Market in West Philly late at night, which is not the priciest real etate of the day. My pick up is getting off the elevated train on the north side of the intersection, and I'm coming from the south. Seeing what appears to be my passenger, I pull over to the corner and hit the hazard lights. So far, so normal.

The car behind me is an electric blue truck, and he starts flashing his high beams at me. Maybe I cost him a green light, I'm not sure. In any event, nothing to be done about that now, so I wait for the passenger to cross the street. He does, I confirm the address and recite the amenities and shut down the hazard lights, but he's lost in his headphones. His choice, no worries, it's a short ride. I check the eastbound traffic on Market, see none, and make the legal right turn on red.

I'm ten feet down the road when I hear the blue truck gun its engine, and I see my man run the red light. 

I'm twenty feet down the road when I hear the crunch  as the truck gets T-boned by westbound traffic.  

And I'm a block away, with a passenger that has been oblivious to all of this, when I realize that making three rights to go back to the block and deliver a Nelson Muntz coup de gras would be satisfying, but probably not great for my health and safety...

Oh, to be 3

 The pick up is at the train station, a mom and her son, accented English. They've been on trains all day, it's late, and there's no car seat. By the law, I shouldn't take them, but it's a 5-minute ride in a depressed area, I need a bunch of short rides to make a bonus with snow coming in, and I don't have the heart to say no to this woman and her little boy. We roll and I hope he'll stay in his seat with just a seat belt, but... 

Nope!

Since he's not in a car seat and it's a novel experience for him, and he's three and male and the way he is, the next five minutes is... not exactly relaxing for any of us. He's not feeling safe and having a tantrum, his mom is trying to control him with a rising lack of patience, and he wants to control his environment... which means that my stuff in the seatbacks (cleaning supplies, hand sanitizer) and signage is Fascinating. I hit the child locks so he can't roll out into traffic, drive slow and safe as alays, and bore him into passivity. Not the first time this sort of ride has happened, to be candid.

As we make the drop on a quiet side street, the mom and son make their way out, only to wave back at me ten seconds later, before I pull away, because in all of the commotion, she's left her phone on the floor. I roll down my window to talk to her, find out what she needs, and in five seconds...

My guy has opened *my* car door several times. The mom apologies once more, and I coast away, quite thrilled that he is Her Problem and not mine...

Amateur Hours (New Year's Eve 2024)

New Year's Eve is one of the most lucrative nights of the year for rideshare drivers. You make twice your usual rate on average, which also means that... you are twice as stressed about making good choices for profit taking. It is what it is.

I started New Year's Eve with a need for Lyft points to clear December's requirement, so the first four hours are spent on one platform, not optimizing for surge or prime areas, and... stink. Lots of rides to low density places, no surge, no tips, no conversation, and I can't wait to get to the points requirement. I think I'm there as my bladder is bursting and I'm local to my home, so I pull in, get relief and discover... nope, one point (out of 860) short. GAHHH. It clears soon after, and I pivot to two platforms...

Only to discover that Uber is also playing Screw the Driver games with surge areas that disappear on activation, using up my margins for avoiding inefficient rides, and by the time midnight rolls around, I'm staring down the barrel of nothing more than a better than average Tuesday.

After the clock strikes, my luck changes, and I find myself in a college area (short rides, high prices, full cars so I don't even really feel that bad about the surge, since they can spread the pain). After 90 good minutes of this, I'm in hailing distance of the daily goal, especially if I complete a Quest.

Uber Quests are "beat the clock" promotions where you get a bonus to complete a number of rides before a deadline. Having already completed two earlier and less profitable rounds, I'm now in the finale: 3 for $35, on top of the surge price and possible tips. In other words, nearly consulting rates. And I'm out of margin for being picky, so anything that comes down the pike is one I'm going to take. Rideshare Gods, activate! Form of... good stories for later!

The first ride takes me across the border to Pennsylvania. Leaving the app on means I won't get any fares until I get back across the state line, but I will accrue whatever surge price is happening on my way back. Which means my first ride will be, along with the second ride of the Quest, an extra twelve bucks... and it is, of course, stupid far away, and a shared ride for a single passenger, which will take me back into Pennsylvania to do the whole thing again. Joy.

I drive the 15+ minutes to Bordentown, a well-off little town south of Trenton that has a rather unfortunate police history of making sure that people from Trenton do not go there. It's not exactly my favorite place to be. I roll up on my pick up point, at which moment two male-female white couples try to enter. I have the option, at this point, to either ignore the rules and give these cheap chuckleheads what they want for less, to an area I don't want to go... or I can tell them no and cancel, while making no money. Most times, I just eat it and three-star the passenger, because the majority of shared rides are not doing so out of anything approaching eco-friendliness, but tonight... nope. I drive away as the meatiest of the guys showers me with profanity, and was I smiling to hear it? I'll leave that to the imagination.

The next fare is again 10 minutes away, but at least it's coming back 25 minutes in what's likely in state, and if I'm going to close out this quest by 4 am (gahhh), I'm going to have to be quick about it. So I roll on out to a remote home in a quasi-rural area, and get five (yes, one more than the the legal limit, and the women are going to sit on some guy, and they're all drunk) people piling into the hatchback. Joy. We roll on out as drunk people engage in comedy, because some people are like that when they drink, and they think I'm hilarious because I'm dryly adding in asides about their remarks. (OnlyFans, feet pics, artistic integrity and the like. Nothing all that novel.)

We get two minutes from the drop when the guy in the front seat announces he can stands no more, so I pull over as he expertly pukes on the side of the road. He's quick about it and seemingly not too burdened by food, so five minutes later I'm alone again, with the final ride of the Quest relatively close by, but 30+ minutes west. Two guys speaking what is I'm going to imagine is a Slavic language enter, with enough understanding of English to confirm the mission. By the time I've dropped them off, I've learned that English is the language for profanity, but not much else, and made an off-the-app second stop because they can't figure out the app to do such things. I drive back home alone for the better part of an hour on empty roads.

If you drive on New Years' Eve, this is what you can expect. Higher risks, higher rewards, and if nothing else, a lot of people getting home safe.

Final tally: 28 rides for $399, plus some progress towards a Lyft quest for the week, plus whatever tips trickle in the next day. 

And, of course, the memories...