“You know, we’re here in the middle of nowhere. If I wanted to, I could just leave the house and stay. “
My Lyft driver laughed and assured me I would never do this to a customer, of course, but it was just another point in my growing belt of shared travel experiences. I laughed with him, because he honestly didn’t surprise me; I’ve been through this shit before. It wasn’t until my husband panicked to ask me if I was okay that I realized this shouldn’t be normal.
I think we all know the shared quotes. It’s basically a taxi service that runs through an app where regular people drive you from point A to point B. I still remember the first time I heard about it, in 2014, when my friend went recommend that we take an Uber from downtown Austin to my apartment. . They became a de facto part of my college experience because I liked going to places, I didn’t like parking, and I had a hard time understanding public transportation after spending my childhood in postures.
But taking a stake as a woman always carries a necessary risk. Accept that you are basically putting your life and safety in the hands of other people. These are people who go through a brief screening process, but are usually left at their disposal unless they receive a complaint. And some, like my recent Lyft driver, try to isolate themselves from complaints; the man I traveled with this past week would not let me out of the car until he had seen me give him a five star rating and a tip. I had to contact Lyft after arriving at my destination to let them know that this guy had actually been really creepy.
Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time a car-sharing driver is weird. I doubt it will be the last, although I have now reached the point in my life that renting a car is a legal possibility in most states; I really doubt that from here on out he will leave me at the mercy of someone else.
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There was a time in college when I had a few drinks and then I took an Uber home from the concert hall where I was. The driver parked but didn’t open the door until he asked me if I wanted to go get something to eat with him at that time.
Or the other time a driver waited for me to be nailed before his friend appeared from the seat in the third row where I had been lying; that friend offered to sell me cocaine and when I refused he tried to convince me with a shoulder massage.
Or the moment when a driver kept touching my knee because “I wanted to see how my jeans felt.”
Or the moment a driver got out of his car and tried to follow me to my apartment complex under the guise of making sure I got home safely.
Or the moment a driver told me how much he hated driving women because they were so hard to please to get a good grade, and then asked me to get out of his car on the side of the road with less than a mile to go. walk to the airport because there were works and I didn’t want to drive around it.
Or the countless times a driver has asked me why my boyfriend / fiancé / husband allows me to travel alone so men like that driver could take advantage of me easily. Which is usually accompanied by a guarantee that they I’m not one of those men, but seriously, my luggage is in their trunk, so even if I was saved, they could find me through my address (and yes, it has happened too).
Most of the time I have decent car drivers. Most just want to give a little talk about where I’m headed or share a little of their life story. Many are more than happy to sit in silence, which is fine for me. I’ve had a handful who give me a sales pitch for their side bustle. I’m usually happy to hang out and enjoy the trip.
But there are enough creepy ones who use the service that if I travel a long distance, through an unknown area, get drunk or go out at night, I will charge the penalty for canceling drivers until I get a woman. I don’t like wasting someone’s time, but sometimes you end up wondering if one of these people will be the last person you talk to, or at least if it will make you feel so uncomfortable that your adventure is ruined.
And I hate to be grateful that they just sent me feel insecure, because there are other women who have had it much worse.