I drove a young guy home from work on my way back from a personal trip to see a car collection. In our conversation I said, “Think it’s going to be a tough winter.”
“Yeah, me too. My dad doesn’t celebrate his birthday, he celebrates ‘surviving winter’ in the spring. We’re part Native American, it’s a cultural thing.”
“Interesting.. When is his birthday?”
“I don’t know, in one of the winter months I guess.”
“If Hunter Thompson was still alive he’d be a Rideshare driver,” said a friend after a year of stories.
A few years ago a couple of my friends started Rideshare driving, they didn’t know each other but around the same time both decided to acquire purpose driven vehicles and started shuttling people around. My first reaction(s) was, “Why are you doing that?!” They both had established construction related careers and this didn’t make sense to me; I even looked down my nose a bit. Basically Steve wanted something flexible to fill unwanted downtime and Rick needed a change. They both found this self-scheduling – pay as you go opportunity to work for them. Over the next months (turned years) I found my curiosity growing and often asked them and the occasional Rideshare drivers that I rode with about their travels..they all liked it.
Gig work driving is a blend of different experiences. The driver doesn’t know when the next request will appear on their app, where the rider is nor where they want to go, never-mind who they are; it is like fishing. Learning and tracking demand is a constant navigation of social trends, using past observations to predict future needs. Moving the driver’s position icon on the app map to chase down surge bonus pay icons and trending demand arrows is much like an 80’s video game. When the ride ends the driver is automatically paid.
While finding the work schedule flexibility and paid upon completion appealing I wondered about other potential gig work – something other than driving strangers around.
Things change. With a slow winter approaching I found myself at an intersection of want and need, so I chose to try, to drive through it. A few months down this detour the pandemic came around, shifting everything.
After two years and over four thousand trips down the road of this experience – it seems time to capture some of it. Every trip yields an adventure and each personality contributes to these short experiences..some are worth sharing.
Love brings expiration
Like most drugs there is a small
sequence of numbers only
to be seen
in a broken rear view mirror
Be it written on the back of a lovers
shoe, vivid as they walk away
Somewhere in the maze
of a Doctor’s file
Or in the fog of pet’s dream
A date
“That guy doesn’t have any fear.”
My longtime friend Jeff used to say
about me often in front me, near
a machine built for speed in a parking lot,
bar, party, around a fire or wherever
old stories get rekindled – as if I wasn’t
there. I can’t explain why
some are drawn to the edge, to live fast
near places most avoid. Velocity, Adrenaline,
Testosterone held together in youth
make a delicious cocktail some call
“Wild.” Hunter Thompson once said,
“The Edge… there is no honest way
to explain it because the only people
who really know where it is are the ones
who have gone over.” I don’t recall
how many times having to pause
for Blue lights to hear words like:
do you know how fast… you can’t,
shouldn’t, that’s illegal, catch you
next time – see you in court. Coming back
a few occasions under Red lights
hearing: how many fingers, can you feel…
you could’ve, should’ve, cannot believe
you didn’t – you must have an angel.
Fear can be turned and projected
like a shield. Sometimes you can smell it
on an opponent as they go
down. Tuck it behind a name
badge to stand in serious corners
of a club where others escape
under dancing lights, loud music
and strong drinks. Feel it
on a head shaved to support a friend,
swimming with chemo, during a time
of skinhead uprising. Heard daily as most
turned to avoid and occasionally tasted
as some returned to scream assumed hate
I left them uniformed to keep
their pride in confronting stupidity.
As time etches glass. Slamming Wild
mellows into sipping Perspective.
Love holds fear. A blend
could walk in front of getting another
pet, close an open hand, freeze
a mind, lose pieces of a broken
heart. In our place where it is better
to be feared than afraid, I am tired
of paying for what others stole.
Tired of being feared for what others
have done. I get to shoulder
a fear that comes in the form
of an unearned invisible decrepit sign
created by monsters. The word [Beware]
written with body fluids of others.
It can be seen by unknown women
who go out of their way to avoid
sharing a sidewalk. Heard in the stressed
air near a vacant seat. Noticed
by a child taught to stay away
from the lone-strange-man.
Perception does shift
when my spotted dog walks me
through awakening blooms, falling
leaves and assorted flavors of rain.
And it disappears when surrounded
by my daughter’s wiggly girls. Seems
I now have a few angels.
There are many edges to the dark
force labeled Fear.
Feel them.
Or don’t.
“That guy doesn’t have any fear.” My longtime friend Jeff used to say that about me often, in front of me, near a machine built for speed, in a parking lot, Bar, party, around a fire or wherever old stories get rekindled – as if I wasn’t there.
I can’t explain why some are drawn to the edge, to live fast near places most avoid. Velocity, Adrenaline, Testosterone held together in youth make a delicious cocktail some call “Wild.”
Hunter Thompson once said, “The Edge… there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.”
I don’t recall how many times having to pause for Blue lights to hear words like: do you know how fast… you can’t, shouldn’t, that’s illegal, catch you next time – see you in court. Coming back a few occasions under Red lights hearing: how many fingers, can you feel… you could’ve, should’ve, cannot believe you didn’t – you must have an angel.
Fear can be turned and projected like a shield. Sometimes you can smell it on an opponent as they go down. Tuck it behind a name badge to stand in serious corners of a club where others escaped under flashing lights, loud music and strong drinks. Feel it on a head shaved to support a friend swimming with chemo, during a time of skinhead uprising. Heard daily as it turned to avoid and occasionally tasted as some returned to assume hate. Found hitting the face of an attacking dog.
As time etches glass, slamming Wild mellows into sipping Perspective.
Love might hold fear. A blend could walk in front of getting another pet, close an open hand, freeze a mind, lose pieces of a broken heart.
I shoulder a fear that comes in the form of an unearned invisible decrepit sign created by monsters. The word [Beware] written with body fluids of others. It can be seen by unknown women who go out of their way to avoid sharing a sidewalk. Heard in the stressed air near a vacant seat. Noticed by a child taught to stay away from the lone-strange-man.
There are many edges to the dark force labeled Fear. You either feel them. Or you don’t.
Can Bryan Write? 