That Time I Almost Got Robbed

For about a month I haven't shared any stories with you. This is partly because of blogging technicalities, partly because I am enjoying living in the moment with my family, and partly because deep down I know I have to share this story and I guess I really don't enjoy thinking about it. Writing a blog about it just amplifies those thoughts for several hours while I put it into words, and it's not that pleasant. Nonetheless, the night I am sharing with you has played in a big role in who I have become as a rideshare driver.

"What is the craziest thing that has happened to you as a driver?" is the most common question I get from my riders. After three months, I have plenty of stories to share, but there is one night that brought me to one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I'm not sure I will ever forget it. In fact, I love to share it with strangers, it elicits a big reaction and a few laughs and then in a minute or so, I'm done thinking about it. But very few of my family and friends know these details because I don't want to hear the "that's not safe" mantra. I guess it's time to let the cat out of the bag on the ugliest night of driving I have ever had.

The first Friday night I drove for Lyft I started in my hometown. There is nothing glamorous about driving here. Generally I feel safe, but in the beginning, it took me time to decipher when and where would produce the most money in the safest places. There are three types of riders one will encounter in my local scene: The "my car is at the shop" rider (normal people), the drinker that doesn't want to put anyone at risk (also mostly normal), and the ones whose licenses have already been revoked and/or are involved in illegal activity. This is different from the Bay where you will also get the tourists, the business travelers, and those who don't own cars because they live in the city.

My first three riders were normal. By the fourth, I was still in town and it had just gotten dark. I was annoyed because I could see my rider on the GPS leave the pickup location right as I was pulling up and walk across the street to a gas station. It was rude. If you request a ride you shouldn't purposely leave a driver waiting when they could be giving somebody else a ride. She came to the car and asked for a little more time, she had a young child with her. I said it was fine and I waited. After several minutes of stewing, she came out and got in my car crying. Her father, who was in the gas station, was turning himself in to the police for something the next morning and that was the last time she would see him for years. At that moment I realized that a lot of people in this world have much bigger problems than I do. That was just the beginning.

Next, I got a request for a ride across town. It was a girl around twenty years old. She came out of a house in a very average, lower income, older neighborhood. She was quiet and all I remember is that she had heavy jagged eyebrows that looked like they could stab you if you got too close. She was going to "Scary Town" and I was excited because that was a solid 20-minute drive. When I asked her where she was going, she told me work, and then she never said another thing except where to let her out. Sadly her "work" was at a really seedy motel. Again, a lot of people have bigger problems than I do.

I had several normal people after that, and some fun conversations. One rider was going to her old neighborhood to collect rent money from some people. She was very nice and normal but her old neighborhood was one of the most frightening places I have ever had to wait. People were practically encircling my car and I grabbed my pepper spray and held it ready. Nothing happened. When she got in the car she explained that it was a bad neighborhood but she didn't feel like anybody would get shot there. I am not a fan of being in neighborhoods that require that type of classification.

Then it began...

Around 10:30 PM I got a request for an apartment complex. I got there around 10:45 and I couldn't find the rider. She called and she was rude. She was angry because I couldn't find her (totally NOT my fault) and she was going to be late for work.

Now, you have to understand that I just came from a customer service management position where my whole career hinged on whether or not I could "make it right" for disgruntled customers. Between that and the star rating system within Uber and Lyft's apps, there's not much I am unwilling to do or apologize for when somebody is yelling at me.

I found her on a sidewalk and she got inside my car. From the first moment, she was upset and I was trying to be apologetic and accommodating. Now I don't know to this day if she was telling me to go somewhere other than the address she put into her request, or if she was just asking me to take an alternate route, but my GPS was yelling at me like Siri was going through menopause. I couldn't do anything right. Every turn was wrong. Couple that with not knowing the city, it being completely dark outside, and having my rider constantly throw out tiny pieces of commands like "Take Main Street instead," and you can envision the pressure I was feeling.

Just for future reference, YOUR RIDESHARE DRIVERS DON'T KNOW HOW TO GET AROUND EVERY TOWN THEY DRIVE IN! There is even a good possibility they have never been there before!

She kept telling me where to go, but not in a way that I understood. Then she was on her phone the whole time talking to some man about wanting to come see his new bed... SUPER CLASSY. Every now and then she would pause to yell which way to turn. Finally, I silenced my GPS and just tried to take whatever directions she volunteered.

I know what you're thinking. You are thinking, "Why on earth didn't you pull over and tell her to get out of your car?" I know. I know. But this was a lesson that this guest-centric, people-pleasing, mistake-fixing driver was going to just have to learn the hard way. Don't worry, Mom. I've learned.

We finally arrived at our destination. It was a desolate shopping center with a ghetto supermarket on one end, a liquor store on the other, and a gas station on the street corner. There were no signs of life except for the tweakers hobbling randomly through the parking lot like they were auditioning for The Walking Dead. I was terrified. She directed me to the corner of the supermarket and I thought, "Ok, I guess that's her corner." When I drove over there, there was a tall black metal gate closing off the back of the shopping center from all other traffic. It was enclosed with large oleanders separating it from the street. There was not a single light. I was starting to worry that the Walking Dead might start banging on my car.

When we got to the corner I open the back door and she immediately said, "No, not here. Back there." I laughed a little bit in relief and said, "There's a big gate right there. I can't even go back there." Just then she took her phone off her ear and said, "No, they are going to open it for you." What the?! What was happening? I suddenly felt like this was going to be on a future episode of Dateline. Now here is the moment when I knew something really bad was about to happen: Some dude, wearing all black, stood up from the ground and tugged on a strap that he had attached to the black gate and they beckoned me in.

I would love to tell you that I spent those final moments thinking about my family and everything I have to live for, but honestly, I didn't. Those things flashed before me in that cliche way, and then all I could think was, "If I go back there and they rob me or try to hurt me, I am going to have to use my minivan as a weapon and run over these people. Somebody might die. But my car will be damaged. I might have to drive through that gate if they trap me. My car is going to be hurt. I just quit my job to drive this car, and I can't wreck it over these fools and that gate or I'm screwed. Alive, but screwed."

Those five seconds seemed like an eternity and she yelled, "Drive back there!" and I sat in silence, not wanting a one-star review.  Again she said, "That's where I'm going. Drive in there!" and I finally mustered up the courage to respectfully say, "I am not comfortable with that." In that moment she knew she wasn't going to get me and she shouted, "OKAY!" and I opened her automatic door and she stomped away in her heels into the darkness and past the gate.

I have no way to know what was going to happen behind that gate. Maybe there was some major illegal activity going on and that's legit where she "worked." I checked the satellite image of the property the next day and all that was back there were two small shipping containers and a fence enclosing all of it. Maybe they were going to trap me, kill me, dump me, and sell my minivan. Honda Odysseys are pretty sweet. I will never know.

I spent the next twenty minutes in a daze. I guess I was in shock. I got out of that neighborhood as fast as possible and I took the next ride that came up on my app. I got lost getting to him because I was so disoriented. When I finally picked him up it was a nice 19-year-old kid who was trying to work and live on his own because his mom had passed away. He really had a lot to get off his chest. I listened. Then by midnight, I pulled into my driveway and decided I should probably call the police and let them know what happened.

For several days I was in denial that this was anything serious. I kept telling myself, and a few others that this was just part of the job I signed up for and I was going to have to get used to it. Thank God sanity set in and I realized that no job is worth getting trapped at midnight in scary town envisioning yourself driving over other humans to protect your life.

Instead of giving up, this was a turning point for me in the way I planned the time and location of my driving. I have not had anything close to this ever happen again, and I don't foresee it in my future. But if I ever get that on-edge feeling again, I will just pull over in a very public place, open the automatic side door and tell them, in an unmistakable fashion to get out of my car.

I learned my lesson.

The Good, the Bad, and the Drunk: Part 2

Welcome back to the second part of my St. Patrick's Day story. If you haven't read the beginning of this story, take a few minutes to catch up, you will be glad you did.

On Sunday night, the 17th, I drove locally again but the mood of the riders wasn't the same. There was more negativity in the air. One of my friends pointed out that a lot of the people drinking on a Sunday night are probably the one's who don't have a job to go to the next day. I think she was right. There weren't groups of friends laughing together or joking about my soccer mom car. Business was slower and I felt a little less safe because I was going to more obscure parts of town.

I had one rider who was in a semi-normal neighborhood. It was older single story apartments that looked like somewhere a student would live. I waited and waited for some guy named Kevin. Suddenly a twenty-something guy got in my car. I said, "Kevin?" and he said, "Yep." He was nice and polite but looked like somebody who must have frustrated parents because of his lack of maturity and responsibility.

Kevin asked to use my charger which is how my phone hooks to my Apple CarPlay and gives me directions. Normally that would have been a hard no, but I knew the area so I let him. His girlfriend kept calling and ringing through my whole car. They were arguing about him going to Kevin's house. Wait? I thought HE was Kevin. At one point Kevin called on speakerphone and asked where he was and he said he was in the Lyft and on his way. Kevin asked, "Is the driver hot?" and the non-Kevin rider said, "Yes, she's very good looking." Which gave me a good laugh. What a nice kid in an awkward moment. The girlfriend drama continued on the phone the whole way. I dropped him off and the real Kevin met him in the front yard.

I drove away in the dark and before I turned the corner I got a call from the real Kevin. He was the one who actually booked the ride. He said, "Hey, did my friend leave something in your car?" I pulled over and looked from my seat and told him he didn't. He said, "Are you sure he didn't leave something?" I replied, "What was it?" because who asks something so vague? Was it a phone? A wallet? A hat? He said, "Oh, I don't know. He just had a feeling he left something." I told him there was nothing and then I drove away and pulled over somewhere safe. Kevin's friend left his crack pipe in my car. Kevin was his dealer.

So what do you do with a crack pipe when you don't smoke crack? It didn't seem like a good time to start doing drugs, so I looked up the nearest police station and it was seven miles away. I figured they would get a good laugh out of me turning it in. Seven miles was too far to drive with that thing on St. Patrick's Day night with police everywhere. I went to McDonald's, picked it up with a Kleenex, and dumped it in the homeless-proof trashcan. I started thinking that maybe Modesto wasn't the best place to drive at night. It gave me a good conversation topic with the rest of my riders though.

My very last ride of the night was an African-American gentleman who jumped in my car as a protector and defender. He didn't like the way some guys outside my car were approaching me and asking questions while I was waiting for him. I appreciated his good heart so much.

He and I had a good conversation on a topic I had discussed with many people over the weekend: In American culture, why is it okay to pretend to be Irish for one day and go get drunk? I'm married to a very large and proud Irish family, but I have yet to see any of them get drunk. Of course, this conversation isn't political but more of a stand up comedy bit to get people laughing and talking. But this rider and I had a solid conversation about it. We talked about God and religion and holding strong to our values even if they are contrary to our culture. Then he told me that if I wanted to go to a park on Juneteenth, I could get drunk with the African-American culture too. He knew I wasn't a drinker. We had a good laugh at the thought of it though.

You will probably hear more about this in the future, but I believe one of the greatest benefits of this job is that two strangers in a world that is so divided politically, economically, and religiously sit in a car together and have a conversation. A lot of times people don't talk, and that is totally fine. But when there is an intellectually stimulating conversation or a conversation about somebody struggling through life, or even something lighthearted but sincere, we are making connections within our community that never would have had another opportunity to happen. In our world we spend so much time isolating ourselves from "strangers," that we are losing these opportunities to connect.

Somehow I managed to make it through the weekend without any puking. I would say that's a success. I also learned a lot about humanity. I've always wondered why people want to go out and make themselves sick. I believed that most of the time it was because they had a need in their soul that they didn't know how to fill. I still believe that's true for some people. But on night's like St. Patrick's Day I think it's a way for people to have fun with their friends and forget about work. I mean, I love acting stupid and laughing with my friends too, I just don't want to throw or have my judgement impaired. I struggle with that enough without adding alcohol to the equation.

What I have learned so far is that driving intoxicated adults around is just like driving toddlers. They talk loud, they sing along, they backseat drive a lot, they ask questions, they laugh at all my jokes, and you need to make sure they're all buckled in. Most surprisingly, they are thankful. The ones who really should not be driving are the one's who are the most appreciative. I had more than one person thank me for keeping themselves and everybody else on the road safe. And everybody was kind and respectful.

I debate whether this is what I want to do with my time, whether this is a good place for me to be. Am I supporting reckless behavior? Am I contributing to a problem? Then I remember that these people would be partying whether I was there or not. But without me there, they may not have a safe ride home. I saw several accidents over the weekend. Drunk driving is a threat to everybody, including my family and yours. If I have the patience, composure, and sense of humor to put up with these crazy antics and laugh at the same time, then I can be there to help save a life. I feel good about that.

The next afternoon I went to clean my car out. I looked for trash on the backseat and saw something sticky had spilled on my all-weather mats in the way back. (The mystery bottle from Saturday?!?) I went to grab my Windex and paper towel stash in the trunk only to find that the very same group had accidentally stolen my paper towels. But they did tip well.

Don't worry, Mom. I mostly drive very sober commuters in the early morning.

The Good, the Bad, and the Drunk: Part 1

The first thing my sister said when I told her I was going to be driving full time was, "Really? What about all the drunk people? Do you want drunk people throwing up in your car?" I laughed and assured her that I would be driving the morning commute and wouldn't have to deal with that. But really I hadn't given it much thought. Little did I know, driving those late night riders around would give me a fresh perspective and a new purpose.

For those of you who don't know me well on a personal basis, alcohol isn't my thing. I personally have never understood the idea of drinking something that makes you act crazy, throw up, and feel terrible the next day. In fact, this whole idea of going to bars and drinking with friends is completely foreign to me. As in: I have never done it. I guess that's why I am now the public's designated driver.

So does that mean people throw up in my car? Almost. One night on my way home for the night I got a final request to take a guy home. I was tired and somewhat impatient because I really had my heart set on going to bed. His friend requested me and then let me know he was super drunk and needed a ride because he couldn't drive. He handed him his stuff and said something about not peeing his pants. IS THAT A THING?! He did all but tuck the guy in my back seat and off we went. He only lived a mile away and so I wondered why this "friend" couldn't let him puke in his own car? Or was that why I was there? Oh yeah.

This guy is in my back seat and within the first block he belches and I say really loudly, "PLEASE, just don't throw up in my car." This rider was really a sweet and respectful younger guy and he said, "Yes, mam. I will try hard not to." We got a couple blocks down and he belched some more. When we were approaching the final turn for his house he yelled, "Mam! Open the door please and let me out! I'm gonna throw up! I'll walk the rest of the way."

I don't know if you've ridden in a minivan made within the last decade, but the doors don't just swing open like the good ol' days. I drove my two-day-old tires up on that sidewalk and straddled the corner. Then I pushed the button (which only works if the car is stopped, hence the straddling). Then "jrooooooooooooom." [I used lowercase because it was very uneventful and anticlimactic] The doors opened in slow motion. It was the longest ten seconds of my life. Then I yelled "GO! GO! GO!" like we were in the military. He thanked me, I thanked him, and told him to get well soon. Because what do you say to drunk people?  It looks like the flu to me. He stumbled home in the dark.

That was the extent of my experience until St. Patrick's Day weekend. Saturday I decided to drive locally and it didn't even cross my mind that people would be celebrating the night before. By about 8:00 PM my driving apps were off the hook. The requests were constant and many of them were large groups needing my large car, which meant I made large money. At the beginning of every group ride, riders would spend the first five minutes roasting my minivan. That's okay. When they realized I have fruit snacks and granola bars for them like a mom, they give me mad respect. Mom's are cool. We have snacks.

Every time I drive, even on the scary nights and the partying nights, I feel that I learn more about life. I always gain something; emotionally, intellectually, or spiritually. Sometimes I get a good laugh and sometimes I get some wisdom. One of the first groups I got was a mom, named Michelle, and her two daughters. They were celebrating her birthday. I am not sure how, but Michelle managed to inspire me in the ten minutes I drove her across town. She reminded me not to sweat the small stuff in life, then she clarified that most everything is small stuff. She reminded me that I drive every day not just to take people places but to connect with humanity. I guess you could say she was my night's moment of clarity. I liked Michelle.

As the night went on, the level of sobriety took a steep decline. My most entertaining ride was a group of seven older-than-me adults leaving an event, and going to another bar. They were so incredibly kind. We stopped at one of their houses to drop off some stuff they won from an auction (I think). Five of them got out, all confused. They emptied the trunk and then let their dog out.

Right when we made it to our destination I looked in my rear view mirror and one of the ladies in the far back had what I am assuming was a wine bottle. My mind raced, "Is that illegal? I'm pretty sure it is. I am going to get arrested. There's no way she would do that. It has to be empty. Yes, its empty, she's saving it for a Pinterest project..." And then my mind went to, "Get them out of my car. Get them out of my car NOW." They got out and I never saw that bottle again, just the one-second glimpse in the dark. Maybe it was my imagination. It definitely wasn't anything that was my fault. Aside from the bottle, they were people I felt like I could be friends with. They tipped me very well for my patience.

I took a few more rides after that and headed home around midnight. I made pretty good money and a small amount of time which meant I could spend more time with my family. Now I just had one more night of St. Patrick's Day weekend to go.

This weekend was too much excitement to fit into one blog post. Check out DrivingMom.com next week for the hilarious and inspiring conclusion of this adventure!

The Bay Bridge

My first night as a rideshare driver was a success. After my expenses, I made more than what I made as an hourly retail manager. This whole driving thing was becoming more and more appealing. Just think, no boss, no schedule, and no planning my life six weeks in advance to be able to be there for my kids when they needed me. I could really get behind this. But the responsible adult in me knew I couldn’t just quit my job and go all in without exposing myself to all the different elements of ridesharing. Coincidentally, I had taken a week of paid time off from work thinking I would look for something with a more stable, traditional schedule. But now I could use this whole week to prove to my “concerned” husband (concerned that I had lost my mind) that I could make this work.

We live in a bedroom community about 75 miles from San Francisco. Some of you non-Californians might not even believe that people would live so far away from their job and commute that far every day. After all, with traffic, it can take HOURS to make it to the city. That is our reality. That is also the reason that I am able to make a living driving Uber and Lyft. And now it’s the reason that I set my alarm really early a couple days a week.

I woke up before everybody in my family and headed to the bay. My goal was to find a rider on their way over the Altamont but it didn’t work out. Once I made it over the hills I started picking up riders. They were all going to the BART station. That is the train into the city and around the whole Bay Area. One rider stands out in my mind because while I was on the freeway on-ramp he was repeatedly yelling something I couldn’t understand because of his accent. Turns out it was “CARPOOL LANE!” Once I figured it out I just apologized and took his advice. After about five or six riders doing the same, I got one that flashed on my app as over 45 minutes! Score! I went and picked him up and he was going to the Oakland airport. My dream had come true. After all, you don’t get paid unless somebody is in the car, so this was a whole 45 minutes of pay. This was worth getting up at 5:00.

I picked him up and he was super nice. I was stressed of course because it was commute time, traffic was backed up, I was trying to follow my GPS, and now I had a stranger in my car with a flight to catch. The pressure was on. We made it, I did it. Everything was great. Until I realized that before the first guy ever got out of my car I had another rider already lined up. I circled the airport trying to find him. During that first loop, a second rider was added to my list! I finally found them (Oakland International is the easiest to Uber with so it just took me one extra loop). They got in my car and a third rider was added. I started heading to the third rider who lived in a tough part of town.

We went over giant potholes and huge hills on the roads. We hit one so hard my phone flew off its stand. I finally found her waiting on the sidewalk. Once she got in the car I realized it: we were going to downtown San Francisco. No pressure. Just three strangers in my car driving with hundreds of other cars over a bridge (did I mention I’m terrified of heights?!) into the city traffic that all these people were willing to pay someone else to drive in so they didn't have to. NBD. Oh yeah, and I had to pee. There are no bathroom breaks from Uber and Lyft; only when you turn the app off and stop taking riders, which can be tricky to set with people in your car.

Soon we made it out of Oakland and on to the freeway. I merged like a champ, I made all the right lane changes, and nobody could even tell I was scared to death. By that point, I had told them all I was new so they were very patient. Then we made it onto the Bay Bridge. I got through the toll booth and out over the water. I was nervous and shakey from not eating. I was scared of looking down and so I just looked out over the water. That's when it dawned on me: Driving Uber can be so amazing! I get to wake up every day and start a new adventure. I don’t know where I am going or who I will meet. I’m sure it won’t always be nice. I know I will have some scary people and ugly scenery. But if I just occasionally get to drive over the Bay Bridge on a gorgeous sunny day and look out and see the sparkling water and the beautiful city AND get paid for it, then my life is good! Working in retail, as much as I truly loved it, never provided me such big adventures and beautiful views!

I continued into the city and dropped off my three riders. If you thought driving downtown was rough, imagine letting people out at the appropriate places with their luggage. Towards the end of the ride everybody offered their words of encouragement. The woman in my front seat said, “I ride Uber all the time. You’re doing great. Don’t worry about being just right. Drivers miss turns and come back around to where they need to be and nobody cares. You’re a good driver.” I told her to pass that on to my husband because we’ve been debating that topic for years. She laughed.

I wish I could tell you that I stayed in the city and saw the sights, or found an amazing restaurant, or met up with one of my city friends, or even Ubered all over the city and made hundreds of dollars. But I didn’t. I found the nearest McDonald’s because I was hangry and tired from waking up at 5:00am. I called Caleb and the kids and sent a few text messages to friends and family declaring that I unexpectedly took a trip to San Francisco with three strangers and I was still alive. I looked at my app to see how much money I had made. I did the math and figured I could go home by myself and still have made enough. I experienced enough that morning to believe that I could leave my comfort zone and survive. I could even get good at this. (You should see me on the Bay Bridge now!) Then I set my GPS and drove home with no riders because that was enough adventure for one day, even for me.

Riders on the Storm

The very first time I turned on my Uber app I was in my suburban mom driveway. Before I put my minivan in reverse, I had a ride request. I accepted the rider and off I went. As a driver, you don’t choose who you get, where you pick them up, or where they are going. An offer pops up on your phone and you have 15 seconds to take it before it's declined. It gives you a really quick look at where the rider is on a map but that’s all you get. You didn’t know that? I didn’t either. I had a lot to learn and it was going to happen really fast.

Within 10 minutes I realized this was not at all what I expected. I found myself in a rough part of town with a rider going to another town that the soccer mom inside me would label as “scary in the daytime”. It was dark and rainy and I was nervous. The Doors’ song, “Riders on the Storm” came to mind: There's a killer on the road His brain is squirmin' like a toad Take a long holiday Let your children play If you give this man a ride Sweet family will die Killer on the road, yeah Of course, we live in a world where that is very possible, just probably not as likely as your average 60-year-old woman might think. (No offense, Mom! Also, shout out to my Mom for supporting my wild choices that are usually the opposite of what makes her comfortable.) I dropped my rider off and another ride popped up. In a panic, I declined the request. I sat and looked at my surroundings, scrolled through apps on my phone, and thought about whether this was worth the risk I was taking. There were scary people outside, I didn’t know that part of town at all, and did I mention it was dark and rainy? I was comforted by the show of law enforcement in the area. Or was that a bad thing? Then I figured I wouldn’t know for sure if I didn’t give this at least one good try. Another ride request popped up. I summoned all my courage and I accepted it. After that, I had continuous riders for two hours. Some were in nice neighborhoods, some in not so nice neighborhoods. Every person was kind and respectful and that’s really all that counts… and not getting shot. I really didn’t want to be shot. Every time I got a rider I would open the back door with my button up front, they would hop in, I would look at my app to see which way to go, and after I got a little ways in I would ask them how their night was going. It was my new routine. I was doing it like a pro! It was going smoothly. It really was. Until I got a request from Mason. Two times I went to the address and he didn’t show up, which was great because I made $3 just for sitting there, twice! The third time he was there. At this point we are in an older neighborhood with poor lighting, it’s late, I don’t know the area, and it's raining like Noah is waiting for the flood. He apologized for not being there the first two times and said he just needed to return this computer to a friend’s house. I see him climbing in the back with a computer in his arms. He closes the back door, I look at my navigation, drive off, ask him about his night, and realize I stole his computer and left the dude standing in the pouring rain on a corner in the dark! For those few moments, I thought my short career with Uber was over. No five-star reviews for me. I failed in the worst way. I mean nobody died or anything, but I left my rider in the rain and the app was charging him for the time and mileage! Then my phone started ringing. I never answer while driving (or in real life), but I thought maybe it was him somehow. It was. I put him on speakerphone and we laughed and laughed. I went back, I picked him up. We laughed again for a few minutes. If I had to guess, I would say the legalization of marijuana in the state of California played a big role in his positive reaction. Apparently, that helps with a lot of tense situations; even Uber drivers stealing your stuff and leaving you on the corner in a storm. I told him I was new and apologized way too much. By the end of the ride, we were best friends. We talked about our childhood, how friendships change in adulthood, social anxiety, and about career paths. This guy was so nice AND he tipped me $10. Boom! I felt so much joy from connecting with him, listening to his story, and talking about life. It was the same with my other riders. Some talk, some don’t. Many people want to talk about something that bothers them with a completely anonymous and temporary set of ears. I’m good with being that person. I just always hope to find the right words to help. My personal goal in life is to be a bright light shining in a dark world. There’s enough negativity out there. I want to let people know that they are loved and valued, even if it’s just by an Uber driver. You may think that’s silly or naive, and that’s okay. We live in a culture where we are overwhelmed with social media, chaotic schedules, and a laundry list of “friends” whom we don’t truly know. Despite all that, a lot of people still feel emotionally isolated. When Mason got out of the car, I was hopeful that I found something that would work for my life. I felt recharged. It was a way to pay my bills, be with my family, and shine my light. That was the moment I knew that this was the job for me. It has been one rider after another ever since. Oh, and it wasn’t anything like “Riders on the Storm.”

How did I get here?

If you don’t know already, I’m crazy. If you looked at me in my mom jeans (that I got for 30% off at Kohl’s) you would think “soccer mom” but deep down inside this former soccer mom is an adventurous beast begging to be set free. It’s a beast that wants to go its own way and break free of monotony. I fight it every single day. Maybe I am unique, or maybe I am just the only one still listening, but I don’t like being boxed in. There's a whole wide world out there just waiting for me to be conquered! My beast has a name: Independence. Most days the beast’s close friend, Adrenaline Rush joins us. That’s how I became a mom driving Uber.

To give you a quick summary of where I am in life, I have been married for 16 years. We have three kids that are 14, almost 13, and 7. I have been a homeschool mom for ten years (wow, that makes me feel old). For the last two and a half years, I have been working for a major retailer fulltime. My husband is a real estate agent and his schedule is insane; eighty hours a week insane. Between juggling his real estate schedule and my retail schedule our kids just weren’t getting the best of me. Retail has a way of burning you out. It is not for the faint of heart. And that is what brings me here. After a lot of grief, I gave up my fulltime job with really great benefits to drive Lyft and Uber on my own schedule so I can be physically and emotionally available for my family. What an adventure it has been!

Every time I drive I have a new experience. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s terrifying. If you’ve been curious about the rideshare world, I want to share what it’s really like. If you've ever considered driving to earn some extra cash, it can be a pretty sweet side gig and so far I recommend it. But most of all I hope to inspire you to live life boldly, to laugh, to love your neighbors, and to do what it takes to follow your dreams; even if that means driving total strangers around in creepy places in the middle of the night.  Whether you're working on listening to your own beast more often, interested in driving, or just want to live vicariously through my insanity and get a few laughs, I hope you will stick with me through this wild ride!