Princeton Hijinks

This place harbors weirdoes

When you drive rideshare in central New Jersey, most of your fares are going to be in Trenton or Princeton. These are very different worlds, separated by only about 15 minutes of highway driving. 

People worry about me when I drive in Trenton, due to the higher crime rates, bad roads and challenged people. But the reality is that Princeton also has whackadoodles, and while the roads are better, the rampant deer and greater chance of long rides to places I don't want to go to (cough, Newark Airport) don't make it a dramatically better choice of where to work.

Anyhoo. Two recent stories.

 Two teenaged white bros, going to a Princeton municipal golf course. I am invisible to these princes, and their phone conversation is loud... which is why I know their plan for the day. Stealing a golf cart, driving onto the course to meet up with their friends who are mid-round, and drink, I think. They don't have clubs to help them in this charade, or any past experience that this kind of thing will work. I 3-star them to make sure that I'm not a getaway driver later...

Pick up on the Princeton campus. Upper class student, talkative, engageed in high scholarship. We have a fantastic conversation for 20 minutes as I take her into downtown Trenton. It's a nice Sunday afternoon, and I'm dropping them off at City Hall... which is closed today. I ask them why, and after a sheepish few seconds, she admits that her destination is the weed shop across the street. I pivot to note that there is a closer weed shop to Princeton now, but that this seems to be a very good one as well, and it's good of her to patronize stores in neighborhoods that probably need the business more...

"Do you want me to use it?"

YOU! FORCED ME TO USE IT!

 A young passenger gets into the car and I tell them about the water and the hand sanitizer. 

They have a unique reaction and question. "Do you want me to use it?"

I shrugged it off and didn't make it awkward, dear reader. The rest of the ride passed without incident. But in retrospect? Kind of wish I had.

Possible reactions...

> Say yes in a very slow and creepy voice. Then ask if it's OK if I watch.

> Say yes, because they are then contractually obligated to tip.

> Confess that they've thwarted my scheme, and I've gotten away with it for so many years.

> Say yes, because things go badly when people try to eat it.

> Say yes, because I make my own. The critical ingredient is my dog's tears. Do you like it? DO YOU REALLY LIKE IT?

> Say I don't care, because I've lost the will to live and can't care one way or the other. Let's drive.

> Say yes, because if they don't, Daddy George Soros will be ever so angry.

> Get way too intense and say no, I *need* them to use it.

> Just start speaking in a made-up foreign language, a la Andy Kaufman in "Taxi", because their question clearly broke my brain.

> Spend the rest of the trip chanting numbers, since language has clearly failed us as a species, and it's time to just rely on something that can't produce replies like that one any more...

Five bucks of difference

The pick up is at the Trenton airport. This is a 2-gate airport that I don't love working, because it often takes me out of state or to remote and unprofitable suburbs, the local cops really enjoy harassing rideshare drivers, and the place where passengers are supposed to go for the pickup has no cover, so they don't want to be there -- but the cops won't let you get them at the gate. It's bliss. But into every rideshare driver's life, some airport must fall, so have at it.

The passengers are  a white family of four, with two kids who are likely under 10, and parents that are likely in their 30s. They've flown Frontier from Florida and stagger off to the pick up point, filling up my hatchback trunk and then the car. We're off for a 15-minute drive to Pennington, a burb with speed traps and really irritating local cops, but into every rideshare driver's life, some Pennington must fall. Let's see if I can chat with the family.

Turns out yes. Dad golfs, so that takes up a couple of minutes. I then pivot him off that by asking them if they are coming back from Orlando (no, but they've been), then tell them about Knoebels because they like amusement parks. Fifteen minutes go by swimmingly, with both kids feeling comfortable enough to chat, and they are adorable. I drive away returning a little boy's wave, and make my way back to preferred areas. 

And wait... and wait... for the telltale sound of whether I got a tip. Because this ride wasn't great without one. Because the place I dropped them off at clearly indicates they are doing fine and can spare one. Because they are healthy, happy, have just come back from a vacation... and reader? I haven't had one in something like eight years. My own children are no longer adorable young cherubs, the debts and obligations that I have pretty much force me into this car way too often, and the glow is gone. I'm simmering. Here's the soundtrack for that.

Five minutes pass. Goddamned Pennington. Goddamned airport pickups. Goddamned burb people. FML. No surge prices, I hurt, I'm going to be doing this goddamned job for way too long. What's the point? Even when the hustle goes well, it's exploitation. I'm stupid for doing this. I deserve it. All on cycle.

Ping.

Five dollar tip on a nine dollar fare.

The soundtrack changes. It always does.

And will soon change back.

Why your driver avoids certain towns / wants to work locally

Flat tires are an occupational hazard of rideshare driving. Go long enough, especially in urban areas where the majority of efficient requests are going to happen, and you are going to find potholes and get unlucky. 

But here's the thing about potholes in my immediate area; I usually only hit them once. If something is especially bad, it logs in the memory and you either try to avoid that street, or treat it gingerly.

Guess where none of that comes into play? A city you don't know very well.

Here's the five towns where I've gotten a flat in the last two years of rideshare.

Newark. Under an overpass, in rain, where the repair guy came out and told me he's at this place all the time. Glad it's working out for you. This came on a Saturday night, during heavy surge pricing. Faboo.

Camden: On the way to Costco, in a neighborhood that was more than a little intimidating, with a car full of people who did not speak a word of English and didn't seem to understand that no, the ride is over, find another way to get where you want to go.

Willingboro: On a very cold night, with a terrible passenger in the car who kept telling me that my car had a jack (it doesn't; hybrids cut the weight as much as possible to save on mileage) despite all evidence to the contrary. That was a truly magical two hours waiting for service.

New Brunswick: A town of personal horrors. Nail in the tire, but at least I found a repair place that was open and got on the road again in an hour. New Brunswick is also the only place where I've ever gotten a ticket while working in rideshare (bullspit cop nonsense where I didn' t know what was going on with a road repair situation, and cut over safely, but seemingly annoyed him), which wound up getting managed away by an attorney referral. Don't just pay the fines, people. Also, don't go to New Brunswick, and if you ever do go there, turn off the apps and leave ASAP.

Philadelphia: Tonight, in Southwest Philly near Grays Ferry, AKA a part of town where nothing good ever happens. While using Destination Mode to try to get closer to my home, because the Rideshare Gods truly suck some of the time.

The commonality of all flat tire experiences is that they have all occured on a weekend, where I'm more likely to expand my zone because I'm taking in a full shift. Which means I'm chasing surge, and under stress, and likely not making my best decisions.

Oh, and there's another commonality: I'm *way* more likely to not take rides to those areas in the future, or if someone takes me there, to turn off the app and drive right the hell out as soon as they are out of the car.

When I worked this side hustle in California, I'd go anywhere, even though I tried to generally stay local, where the fares were higher. But I never had to worry about an app not working out of state, because leaving California was never possible; no one ever asked for a ride to Reno, Vegas, Portland or Mexico. But while some towns and areas had rough roads, it was never as bad as the East Coast, where temperature changes and poorer areas means bad roads here are simply the worst.

Tonight's happened while driving for Lyft, who have gone back to letting the app work for me in PA -- and also, seemingly, constantly dragging me over there. PA roads aren't as good, the lighting is worse, there's more deer and potholes, the base rate isn't as high, and tips haven't been as good. But other than that... well, there's nothing, But I need points during certain hours to stay in the highest ranking on Lyft, so today was the day I was going to grit my teeth and just commit to Lyft for a full shift no matter what... which is when the Rideshare Gods decided to intervene. FML.

Tomorrow, I'll get to my tire guy first thing in the morning (we're on a first name basis now, or at least should be), then try and fail to make up for the prime time half shift I missed. All while just loving the income disparity at local levels that cause the majority of my work to be in places where I'm way more at risk of real damage to my car. It all adds up to a true net that's over 20% lower than what it was two years ago, when inflation is up about 11% in the same time period. So the hustle is 30% less effective than it used to be for the driver, or, at least, this one.

Still wondering why there don't seem to be enough drivers around when you need one?

A night at the cinema, in three acts

 I start the shift in poor spirits for reasons, and the first half dozen rides respect and reflect my mood with quiet passengers and good for that. But the gods of rideshare / rules of math will not abide, and I get a fare to pick up a woman at a convenience store in a bad neighborhood. It's a guest ride, which is alays trouble but I find her with no real difficulty... as she spends several minutes stuffing  detritus into a trash bag from a vehicle that is literally being held together with duct tape, and is about to be abandoned in front of a sign that promises towing. Nope; not going to ask, nope, not in the mood... and fifteen minutes of fare commences with a constant shuffling of goods in the back seat, along with a low muttering. I see you, Rideshare Gods that are intent on getting me to connect with humanity for the sake of a narrative. No sale. I'm not buying. Drop, 3 stars just for a general sense that this story will continue and I don't want to be here for it, besides delays suck, and next.

The next fare is a highly cautious woman from a good restaurant in a dicey-adjacent neighborhood. I reassure, don't make eye contact, offer amenities that she's impressed by, and we're off. It turns out she's African-American, retired, used to teach second graders and shares my political science degree. Goddamit. Fine, Rideshare Gods, I'm not made of stone. The app takes me through a neighborhood that concerns her, but I reassure and distract with conversation, and since I'm winning on so many conversational levels, I prove my progressive bona fides with a name drop of "The 1619 Project" as it's now got a Hulu series (she hadn't heard of it, was instantly intrigued), then ask her professional opinion on "Abbott Elementary" (loves it). She calls me the best Uber driver ever and tips later. Fine, Rideshare Gods, I'm back in the saddle. Let's be available for people.

The very next ride, because the Rideshare Gods are absolutely ham-handed with the timing, is for a woman outside of a closed Starbucks who is having what seems to be the worst day of her life. Her father is having  a horrifying time with what may be a terminal disease, and her adult daughters are taking the opportunity to, seemingly, lash out at her. She's missed her train back to NYC, and I've got her for 20 minutes to a train station that she'll wait at for the next hour. There's absolutely nothing I can do for other than inadequate transportation (no, I'm not taking her to NYC, and it sounds like she doesn't have the money for it anyway), and the last 18 minutes of the ride is her alternating between talking and sobbing to a friend on her phone.

I go home, write an overly long email to the person that inspired the original bad mood, and contemplate this blog post. Goddamn Rideshare Gods.