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Dude, Where's My Car?

A Ride Share Driver's Story

By L APublished 2 years ago 11 min read
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Dude, Where's My Car?
Photo by Gustavo on Unsplash

As a rideshare driver, one of the most common questions I get asked is "What is the most interesting passenger you've ever had?" or perhaps "Tell me a story of the craziest rider you've had." Over my time as a driver, this list has grown and grown and grown, and I'd often joke that one day I'd make a book of these stories to which the response usually consisted of a gasp and a "You should!"

So here are some of my stories. Some are sad. Most are funny. Some show how passengers can be some of the best customers and some show how they can be the worst. Some may make you laugh and others may make you shake your head. All are true and from my personal experience. However, location and names have been altered for privacy (and because I can't remember that many people's names all the time).

"Dude, Where's My Car?"

It was a sunny, warm summer Sunday morning. It was the kind of morning where you just want to roll down your windows and stroll along some of the nicer roads away from traffic with your music playing softly as you hum to it with nowhere in particular to go. I got a chance to do this as my passenger pickup request was way back in a nice neighborhood, the type where everybody's lawn was always mowed and people's spent more on their gardens than I made in a month. Every house was just slightly different, enough to make it unique without it standing out too much amongst its brethren. Everybody had a two or three car garage with another car or two - always very nice ones - sitting in their driveways. The roads were smooth, and no trash or litter lined the streets.

Being a beautiful Sunday morning in such a lovely neighborhood, and having seen that my upcoming trip was a short one, I already knew what kind of trip it could possibly be, a skill I'd learned from my many trips as a rideshare driver. My passenger was going to be somebody who had to go and pick up their car from the bar they'd left it at the night before when they'd gone out drinking and got too plastered to drive it home but needed it Monday before work.

I pull up to one of these lovely homes and don't have to wait very long for a young man in his mid 20s perhaps to jog on out, a smile on his face. We'll call him Jacob. As Jacob got into my car, and I confirmed his name and destination before we started off, he smiled and thanked me for coming out to pick him up, saying that his trip wasn't far. He just needed to go and pick up his car from his friend's house. They'd gone out bar hopping the night before, and he hadn't wanted to drive drunk. I nodded, put on my usual smile, and agreed that it was a very wise decision.

I drove him perhaps two miles to his friend's house which looked pretty much the same as his, pulling over to the curb and turning on my flashers to let other drivers know to pass me by while I dropped off my passenger. As I prepared to wish him a lovely Sunday so that I could go pick up more people who had been drunk the night before, Jacob paused, peering critically out the back passenger window towards the house. Concerned that perhaps I had stopped by the wrong house, I asked gently if that was his friend's house.

"Yes, this is it," Jacob said slowly, "But my car isn't here." I paused a moment, not sure what to say about that. I had no idea what his car looked like after all. "Perhaps it's in the garage?" I asked, "Do you want to call your friend?" Jacob shook his head, smiling instead, as he told me that he just remembered that he had driven it to the first bar. The group had planned on drinking at his friend's house but then had gone out which was why he'd taken his car. He politely asked me if I could instead drive him to the bar they went to. Sure, why not? The man needed his car, after all.

The bar wasn't that far away. It wasn't that lovely of a place either. It was the type of bar where you look at the building and are pretty sure it's abandoned with all the lights off, the brickwork falling apart, some of the windows cracked, and the front door actually in the back with several layers of paint peeling to show the years of abuse beneath. I almost passed the place at first until Jacob pointed it out, pulling my car into the rather rough and broken mini parking lot which forced cars to attempt to turn at a very dangerous angle. This was a rather poor setup, especially at a place where people were drinking, and the obvious damage at the corner of the brick building told me that more than one person had gotten too close to it going too fast while trying to get around the dangerously-narrow corner. The parking lot was torn apart, full of giant potholes which made me cringe as I slowly crept my car over the ones I couldn't completely avoid, hoping that I didn't break an axle or crack my control arm or something else equally expensive.

As we rolled around to the back, there was only one car in sight, a rather old and rusted white minivan. I wasn't that surprised when Jacob looked around in confusion, saying that wasn't his car. I looked around as well, confused as to where his car could have gotten off to. I suggested perhaps, due to the parking lot, if he perhaps had parked it a bit more safely in a nearby parking lot instead and simply walked over to the bar with his friends. Jacob nodded, agreeing that to be something he'd likely do. So, very slowly so as to not break my own car, we rolled out of the threatening parking lot and back out onto the main street, making our way around the nearby stores and spare parking lots, up and down a few alleyways, and around the next street to see if he could find his car.

"We actually went bar hopping last night," Jacob finally admitted when we couldn't find his car, "We didn't really like this one so I didn't drink much. I think I drove my car to the next one. Would you mind taking me there?" Financially-speaking, wasting time moving slowly around the town looking for somebody's car without making much in the way of distance while maximizing time usage was a swift way to make the least amount of money in rideshare, sometimes not even breaking even with the cost of the gas it would use. However, he was a polite young man, and I always tried to be kind to my customers, whether it was appreciated or not. After all, he did need his car.

I smiled again and agreed to take Jacob to the next bar, sure that his car would be there. After all, there weren't that many places that it could be. Once more, we took off, the next bar only about five or six minutes away. This one, at least, looked more friendly and was distinctively a bar with a more or less easy way in and out, albeit narrow passage. Within this parking lot, which could easily hold around twenty cars, there were still five in the parking lot despite the bar being closed, likely from other patrons who had opted to get another ride home after their activities of the night.

Unfortunately, none of those cars belonged to Jacob. Once more, we checked the parking lots nearby as he said it was a popular bar, and he remembered a lot of people being there. Still no car.

By this point, Jacob is quite confused, and I'm more curious than confused. I've misplaced my car in a parking lot before, exiting the wrong side of the story as I desperately hit my key fob, straining to listen for that telltale beeping of my car to alert me to its location but never have I forgotten where in town I'd put it, especially multiple times in a row. It made me wonder just how many drinks he may have had that he'd completely forgotten where he put his car, although if he was taking rideshare to pick it up, at least he had enough of a mind to have somebody else drive him home the night before.

I sat in a parking lot, windows down a bit as I entertained myself with they lyrics of a song playing on the radio which Jacob was in the back seat, talking to himself a bit as he tried calling some of his friends he'd gone out drinking with to see if any of them knew where his car was. Unfortunately for him, none of his friends appeared to be awake quite as early as he was, noting that I picked him up around ten that morning. I asked Jacob if, perhaps, one of his friends drove his car for him. Perhaps they picked his car as the one to drive around that night so that they didn't all have to drive. Jacob shook his head, saying that wasn't possible because he had a two seat yellow sports car and there were five of them and he'd never allow somebody else to drive his precious baby.

Instead, Jacob thought it out and, since his friends weren't replying, admitted that he had quite a lot to drink the night before and wasn't actually positive in what order they went to the bars, admitting that he may have gotten the first bar - and the location of his car - incorrect. Once more putting on my best customer service smile, I asked him what bar he'd like to check next that was in the area or any that he remembered going to.

That's when Jacob glanced up at me with an amused grin, saying, "I don't remember what bars we went to." That became one of the moments where, for a brief second, I wasn't sure if I should laugh at the silliness of the situation or sigh and shake my head at the absurdity of it all. Deciding that either one may offend Jacob and wanting to provide the best customer service I could, I simply nodded instead, admitting that I wasn't familiar with the bar scene myself and thus, did not know where they all were but would be glad to check the next one for him.

Seeming appeased, Jacob got out his phone once more. I watched him curiously in the rear view mirror, wondering if he was attempting to call his friends again. Catching my gaze, he looked up and said slowly that not only was he not sure what order they went to the bars in but apparently also had no idea what bars they went to at all. He was literally performing a google search for bars in the local area to check them all, having drank enough to not recall his activities of the night before.

Once more, we were off, the story playing on repeat. We'd pull up to a bar and roll around to the parking to usually see a few cars but never a little yellow sports car. We'd check the nearby parking lots before the almighty Google would direct us to our next search and rescue mission for this man's car.

After another hour of rolling slowly through the streets, Jacob finally shook his head, having tried to call his friends twice more during our search to no avail. He sighed and said to just take him home, and he'd try to ask his friends about it when they finally crawled out of bed. Nodding my head a bit, and still slightly curious where this man's little yellow sports car could possibly be, I took him back home, pulling into his driveway to be polite so that he didn't have to walk as far.

Jacob thanked me for taking him around all morning to look for his car, and I nodded, wishing him a wonderful rest of the weekend and wishing him luck in finding his car. As I clicked my rideshare app buttons so that I may begin my next ride, Jacob used his keys to open up his garage to enter his house (he'd exited the front door when first arriving to my car). As the garage door opened, Jacob suddenly came to a halt, spinning around to look at me. I paused, my hand on my gear shift about to go in reverse, wondering if he'd left something in my car. I glanced in the back of my car, expecting to see a wallet or a phone on the seat only to find it bare before I looked back up to see Jacob's guilty expression only moments before he turned away as the garage finished opening up.

There, directly in front of me, parked neatly inside the garage next to a silver SUV, was the little yellow sports car we'd been searching for all morning. Whether Jacob had gotten so drunk that he'd forgotten he never took his car out in the first place, or if he'd actually driven it around bar-hopping the entire night and then had somehow managed to safely get it home and forgotten he'd driven it home, I still do not know.

But at least Jacob found his car.

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About the Creator

L A

In 2nd grade, my teacher kept me after class. I thought I was in trouble. Rather, she told me that she wanted to publish my class assignment which was a 30 page short story. The assignment was one page. I have been writing ever since.

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