Trifecta! Three Crazy Rides in a Row

March 2, 2025March 2, 2025 Bob Reilly

Some days are simply hard to describe.

Ride #1

“What kind of piece-of-shit car is this? Where’s my SUV?”

“I’m Robert. What kind of vehicle does it show in the App?”

“Man, I don’t have time for this shit! Where’s my SUV?”

At this point, the rider wasn’t even in my vehicle yet. He had the rear passenger door open and was yelling uncontrollably at me from outside.

Spitting and drooling in anger.

“Where’s my SUV, dammit!”

I tried to de-escalate the situation.

“Sir, I’m sorry if there’s any confusion with the ride. Is your name (Angry Dude)?”

“Yeah, that’s me, but I was told I would be picked up in an SUV. Who are you? Where’s my SUV?”

He was pounding on the roof of my car.

“Sir, my name is Robert. Maybe the original driver dropped the rideshare. Or I was added because I’m closer to you. Perhaps the first driver was in an SUV. Not sure. Do you want to ride with me or not? You can cancel this ride and request another if you want.”

“No! Don’t cancel the ride. Shit! Okay. Damn. Come on M*****F*****!”

He climbed in, restlessly thrashing about in the back seat, mumbling and cursing under his breath.

This behavior continued for the duration of the ride, which thankfully only lasted 8 minutes.

When we arrived at his stop, he yelled, “You people are full of shit. You’ll be hearing from me.”

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.

I thought to myself, “What an interesting beginning of a new ride day. Well, it can only get better from here.”

Little did I know………

Ride #2

She walked down the meticulously constructed masonry stairs from her gorgeous home in the Virginia suburbs, clinging to the stair rails for dear life.

Then, the elderly woman approached my car, stared inside, walked around the vehicle to check my license plate number, and tapped on the right front windshield.

I rolled down the passenger window.

“Are you Robert?”

“Yes. Are you….”

“Yes. That’s me.”

“Great! It sounds like we have a match.”

“No, I don’t,” she replied. “I don’t even have a lighter. Stopped smoking years ago.”

I smiled at the misinterpretation, and I didn’t even try to explain.

“Well, it’s wonderful that you gave up smoking. Are you ready to leave?”

“Sure. Should I get in the back seat?”

“Yes. Hold on a second.”

I climbed out of the car, ran around to her side, and opened the rear door for her.

“You didn’t have to do that!” She reacted to my kindness with a firm and loud voice.

“Why do people think just because I’m older that I need assistance? I don’t need your help or sympathy asshole!”

“Sorry. I was just trying to…..”

“Just trying, just trying. Everybody’s just trying. You are trying, mister. Trying my nerves!”

At that point, I made sure she was buckled and I hit the road.

I was ready for this ride to end, but deeply curious about the back story.

In that strangely journalistic mindset.

“Hey, I’m having a drink. You want a sip?”

“What are you drinking?”

“The good stuff,” She lifted her bottle of bourbon high in the air.

“No thanks. 7:30 a.m. is too early for me, I could lose my job, plus I hardly drink anymore these days.”

“Well, I see we have a big asshole in the car. There’s only two of us, so that means you.”

She was getting quite worked up. It was clear, this wasn’t her first performance.

I wasn’t taking the bait for both professional and personal reasons.

“Do you judge everybody who gets in your car, asshole? Is that your job? Just shut up and drive. Let me enjoy myself, big man on campus!”

Big man on campus? Haven’t heard that phrase in a while.

She continued her drinking, expletives, and ranting during the entire ride.

When we finally, and thankfully, arrived at her destination, she simply sat in the back seat staring at me with wild, bloodshot eyes.

“Get back here and open the door for me, asshole!”

Despite a desire to respond inappropriately, I jumped out of the car and opened the door for her.

“You didn’t have to do that, asshole!

She smiled, tucked her bottle in her purse, and stumbled away.

I also smiled.

For a different reason.

BPE Pic AI Graphics w Tamborine March 2025

Ride #3

“I’m legally blind. These are my guide dogs.”

The man shouted at the two pit bulls to stop resisting his leash tugs and ultimately reached down to yank them both into the vehicle.

Both dogs were scruffy, with bandanas, collars, and IDs.

I couldn’t read the IDs from the front seat and decided to go along with the program.

Before they entered the vehicle, I could see the two animals were out of control. Once they got inside, it got worse.

Once the man was ready to leave, I proceeded to drive.

“Settle down! Sit down! Stop it! Stop it!”

The man was shouting and smacking the dogs, which only seemed to get them more aggravated.

He laughed, with an upset tone of voice. “They don’t like moving cars”

“I can see that’s true,” I replied.

I’ve moved a lot of people around over the years with guide dogs, assistance dogs, and emotion support animals, but have never experienced the chaos these two dogs created in my car.

“What’s this?”

The man pointed to the video that appeared on my dashboard from the mounted camera on my side-view mirror when I turned on my right-turn signal.

“Oh, that’s a real-time camera view of what’s going on to my right and rear of the vehicle before I make a right turn”

“Wait a minute,” I thought to myself.

“How did you see the camera image on my dashboard? Didn’t you say you’re blind?”

Part of me expected the guy to direct his two slobbering beasts hopping around the backseat to attack me at such a direct inquiry.

“I said I’m legally blind. I can still make out moving images, light and dark, mostly fuzzy.”

“I see. Why are these trained animals acting so crazy?”

“Not fully trained. Discounted training with my friend who trains dogs.”

“So, they’re not official guide dogs?”

“No, they’re official. They help guide me.” He responded with an edge in his voice.

At that point, I decided to simply discontinue the conversation about his not-yet-trained guide dogs and talk about the weather.

The departure from the car was just as frantic as the loading process.

“Hey man, don’t report me to your company. I’m just trying to get around the city. I don’t have a car.”

“I understand.”

I watched him walk away, while two wild creatures wrapped their leashes around his thin frame.

My detective instincts were right on target.

That truth gave me little solace as I grabbed my water, paper towels, and disinfectant wipes to the backseat and transitioned from driver to clean-up guy.

Prayer Time with REV Robert

You don’t have to be a rideshare driver to benefit from this prayer as you prepare for another day on the road.

REV Robert: When a group, behaving like idiots, flies by you at 30-40 miles over the speed limit doing wheelies on their motorbikes AKA crotch rockets, potentially endangering themselves or others on the highway. Hear our prayer.