A little bit of everything
Recently, my rideshare journey involved passenger-initiated conversations about current government job cuts. As a rule, I try to offer an empathetic “good listener” posture when it comes to politics while on the rideshare platform.
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He got out of the vehicle and closed out the ride with one more final fist pound on the roof of my car. I gave him a generous rating of 3 out of 5 Stars. Poor Attitude.
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She was like a page out of Woodstock in 1969, giving me the Peace Sign as I pulled up.
I could hear small bells on her loose-fitting bell bottoms tinkling as she entered the car.
Flashback. The psychedelic pop refrain of “The Rain, The Park, and Other Things,” a 1960’s song by The Cowsills, rushed through my mind. “I Love the Flower Girl”
“What are you doing out in a mess like this? I’m amazed you’re here. Thanks for coming!”
She shouted these words to me while opening the rear door as if the dark morning and heavy snowfall were audibly as loud as their overpowering visual presence.
“Yeah, long ago the light bulb went off in my mind that this thing called Rideshare might as well be named Rescuing in many cases. Sometimes literal rescues, and sometimes figurative rescues.”
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“Would you mind slowing down a bit?”
The woman asked me in almost a begging voice.
I moved to the right lane and slowed down to around 5 miles under the speed limit.
I smiled at passengers flying by on my left.
“There it is. My adversary.”
Her right hand extended into the front seat with her index finger pointing at the four-mile bridge on the horizon.
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I pulled up to the front of the house in a suburban neighborhood outside the city. The person was heading to a party in the city, and from my first impression, I would say the costume was a contender for the top prize.
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“Don’t do that, the driver won’t like it,” the young woman lightly commented to the two children in the back seat.
Immediately my thoughts ran wild.
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My future book, “Rideshare by Robert: Volume Two”, will include selected blogs published in the Baltimore Post-Examiner.
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After the ride, I checked out the backseat. Sticky wet spots everywhere. On the partition, on the windows, on the seats and floors. There was so much hair, my rear seats looked like a shag carpet.
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I sensed that she was hurting and anxious. “Ohhhhh,” She moaned in pain from the backseat. I’m so sorry. I think I might be going into labor. My contractions are only 10 minutes apart, but I feel like I’m ready to pop!”
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