he said he was 40, but looked 30.

smelled 21 like he had just gotten out of the gym.

fellas, never skip a day of showering and get in a car. dudes think, who would notice? a little brut under each arm and alls well? 

alls i can assure you my friend, is not good. 

the fare was good, so i cracked the window and stopped mentally whining. 

his name was marcus, forgettable features and style. dressed to fit in, not to stand out. my goal too.

he smelled funky because he had just helped inhale an eight ball of blow, downed ten shots of jameson, and dont tell his wife, but he rubbed the legs of a red-headed hooker who sat on his lap for two hours. it was his birthday and his boys wanted him to enjoy turning the big 4-0 in k-town.

since marcus was korean, that meant kbbq, karaoke, bottomless soju, and npg girls. npg? he used a three letter term i couldn’t make out. he was slurring words. did he want to go to sleep back there? 

whats that, i asked? 

they're girls who will hang out with you in the karaoke rooms, and with your friends, he explained. there's a knock at the door and five or six girls line up. if you like one of them you choose them. it was my birthday so i chose first. i took a white girl. not the prettiest. not the fittest. one that doesn’t always get picked. but pretty. they cost $100 an hour, 2-hour minimum. no sex, but you can rub their leg. 

no sex, I asked? what an interesting culture. 

some places you can have sex, he said, places that have private bathrooms in the room. but in most places, the girls give you their phone number and you can call them in a few days for sex, or a bj, or whatever, he explained. 

are they topless? 

no. 

why not?

thats not how it is. 

what if you tipped them? i mean, i dont mind not having sex with them, in fact im not sure i want that at all, but if theyre there to look pretty, lets all take our shirts off and sing ozzy ‘til the dust settles.

ive never seen that happen, he admitted. 

marcus, if it was your birthday and i was one of your boys, and we all had npg girls, i’d make a rule where we all changed clothes after every song, like what the replacements did on snl. 

change what? he asked, very confused. 

ok after the first song, i wear your clothes and you wear my npg girl's clothes. then the following song i wear hers. we’d all rotate. but the singing must never stop marcus. in fact, since its your birthday, another rule must be that you have to always have a bra on.

i dont know if thats allowed. 

can you do drugs with these women? 

yes, we split an eight ball tonight.

so you can coke these beauties up and do saki bombs, but you cant wear their bras? what sort of country are we living in?

i dont think you understand, he said, trying to calm me down

BUT I WAS CALM

so all of you have girls, but none of you had any sex with them? 

correct, he said, adjusting his glasses after putting his phone down on the seat.

where do you get your blow jobs? he asked me directly

me? im gonna be 58 in a month. at my age, bjs are like finding money in the street. it happens and you look around to see if this is a hilarious prank, but you know it's all luck having nothing to do with you. 

you will remember, oh yeah thats where i found $20 in the gutter.

you dont use an app? he asked and told me about a site called humaniplex

this is why i drive rideshare, i told him. you people teach me everything.

WHAT ON EARTH IS HUMANIPLEX? 

it's where you can pay girls for blowjobs and handjobs. 

i looked at him via the rear view mirror in the back seat. it was dark and i couldnt see very much. 

i tried to ESP him, dont pay for things you can get for free. but my powers arent what they used to be.

ive been married almost 20 years, he confessed, and my wife doesn't do that any more. once we had our second daughter, she looks at me as if i was disgusting. 

bro, we are disgusting. 

but she's my wife. two minutes would mean so much. for my birthday she didn't even give me a real kiss. i got a pat on the back as i left the house to get my lyft.

don't drink too much soju! she said. 

then he handed me the npg girl's card which I discreetly placed in the soiled wrapper that once held my jack in the box taco. 

you don't want it? i asked. 

i already put her in my contacts as soju.

and when he got out of the car he said, don't tell my wife

$0 tip

i needed to charge my car so i drove to universal even though theyve been jacking up the rates

before i could get there, i got a ping at the sheraton next door to go downtown, which i normally wouldnt have taken, but the thought of grabbing a nice al pastor burrito at my new favorite joint called sonoratown had me salivating.

pulled up to the door of the hotel and mama mia my passenger was a vision.

you know how bad uber is to their drivers, when they can only retain drivers on average for 90 days, when every day miami 10s hop in that back seat and chat you up for a half hour.

it reminds me of when i was working at E! my boss hated me, and one day he took me outside to get me to quit. he sat me down as he smoked a cigarette and was all youre a college grad, you think youre some hotshot writer, you admit you hate it here, so why do you stay?

and on cue, two leggy interns from E! News strolled by and sang, hi tony.

rideshare is different because i adore it. only time it’s bad is when i need to drive very long shifts multiple days in a row. because im a thousand years old my arms get sore and my legs will feel like rubber when i get out to take a leak. but those days are in the past. thankfully.

so there i was at the universal sheraton and miss venezuela slid into the back and asked if she needed to wear a mask because she saw i had one on.

im only wearing one, i said, because im a sensitive artist and the smoke and soot of the air from these fires makes me cough.

she nodded as we eased down the hill from universal down to lankershiem as a giant inflatable minion eyed us from the top deck of a parking structure.

her name was eyezeya

i asked her, wheres that from?

she said the future

nothing better than a sassy lassie when the worlds gonna end, i said, merging onto the 101 freeway in unusually light traffic at 5pm. i guess everyones at home watching the fires on tv, i said.

god bless no congestion, she said. it was busy at the hotel, thats for sure, the long haired natural beauty said, sipping through her starbucks straw.

turns out your girl is a front desk clerk and due to the massive winds that caused the fires from malibu through the palisades to pasadena, tens of thousands of angelenos have been displaced, some because their homes had been totally destroyed, and over the last few days every hotel room for miles have been booked.

poor zeya had to tell people who had lost everything that there was no room in her inn.

little kids with dogs staring at the beautifully lit swimming pool saying, mommy they have a hot tub! while my future wife had to break the bad news.

we have had entire families like the mom, dad, grandma, granddad, uncle, dogs, cats take up seven to eight rooms, she told me, as we hit a little backup near the silver lake exit. some rooms were just for the animals, she said. some rooms were a half-dozen little kids with one older kid babysitting. loud. boisterous. giggling. things crashing.

its like a movie, she said, where everyone is still in shock, having as great a time as they can because soon it will dawn on them that things are about to suck

and a little lilt choked her up a bit

it was dawning on her too.

dont cry sweet girl, i said turning down lou reed, because if you cry i'll cry

which made her laugh

and then cry.

haze hung halfway up the skyscrapers of downtown in a horizontal line like mourners looking down on LA

and then i misted up

because i had some people lose their dream homes too

people i love

people who have done nothing but the right things, the right way, and then one day you wake up in your house for the last time. and you never saw it coming.

i clicked the robot car button so the tesla could drive itself.

impossible to navigate through the tears.

dug into the glove box and grabbed a crisp stack of jack-in-the box napkins

handed half to zeya and took the rest for myself

dabbed my face and blew my nose

comically exaggerated like the loudest trumpet

and she laughed

then cried

$5 tip

but theres no crying in my car

also no barfing

traffic is also banned

fuck you, respectfully.

his name was john and he lived in one of the newer nicer apartments in hollywood where we were headed

we were downtown and you could tell he was gonna cry

so i said, spit it out. youre among friends, whats the problem?

my friend set me up with someone she knew, he said back there, looking out the window with a pout of disbelief

he wore a perfectly fine blazer. shaved. cologned. was he korean? chinese? we never got there.

as soon as we sat down, she said, i have to be honest with you john, youre not my type.

you dodged a bullet bro, i said, supportively.

but she was exactly my type, he sighed.

you want someone that negative, hello?

negative? he asked. you think she was being negative? she was being honest. blunt. direct. i love that.

yeah, but how the hell does she know youre not her type? from looks? your aroma? your $50 haircut? what, does she hates blazers?

i hate blazers, he said

and then he fucking almost started to cry

YO! i said, switching over to full self-driving mode now that we were safely on the freeway.

if you loved her so much, why didnt you fight back?

bringing him back to earth

and away from those annoying “feelings”

ugh

i dont know, he said, thinking about it. i was just stunned. tongue-tied. what do you say? who prepares for that? and what if she was right? who am i to say she’s not right? who am i when it comes down to it?

i thought about some good comebacks to myself quietly. old me would have given him a few for next time. but there are no next times. people say wild shit once-a-year that are shocking. either youre down for a duel or not. john’s not that guy.

i also stopped myself from saying she was challenging you bro. she wanted a hot little joust. she wanted to play with her food before she ate it. she wanted someone who would push back, not just lie there like a starfish.

old me woulda said all of that. old me thought, i could buy the world a coke and teach it how to live in harmony. old me was a dummy. so i took over for the robot car and got off on echo park blvd to avoid the backup on the 101.

before i knew it, he was letting it sink in and the sobbing was bubbling.

what do i do? he asked himself quietly. more to his doubts than to me.

knowing where he lived i asked, what do you do that you live in that tower?

im a programmer.

like you write code?

yeah. computers, he sniffed.

and maybe because i hate people crying so much that i was ready to receive the inspiration from the angels,

and there it was

i said, heres what you do. you get home and make a dating app called Pity Fuck

what? he asked sharply

this city is huge bro. youre telling me there arent both men and women who couldnt use someone just throwing them a bone every now and then?

i mean, i couldn't, he stuttered in the dark back there

im not talking about you. im talking about LA, give the people a way to connect. let them help each other out. dont you feel good when you do a little favor? brand it as: no pressure, no commitment, no questions. 15 minutes.

looking in my rear view i could see him crack a little smile as we got on sunset heading west.

because life is crazy, i continued, if it's really good they’ll probably do it again the next week. before you know it, they're married.

and look at you john. you made it happen. you turned this town’s frown upside down. out of sorrow comes joy.

he said awkwardly, from shit and a seed, grows a tree.

i laughed, precisely, john.

then i told siri to play some sabrina carpenter and got his weepy-ass home.

$9 tip

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light-skinned girl 

long flowing hair, cute little lisp, smelled like baby powder and potpourri. 

when she read her texts she let out a surprisingly long belch and i caught a whiff of wine

omg, im so sorry, she said with a giggle.

i said, for the next 20 minutes make yourself at home. here lemme burp with you, 1, 2, 3 and i turned down the music and got a good burp out by swallowing air and letting it rip

she laughed and i said ok, westwood blvd, am i taking you to your boyfriend's house? 

she laughed, and said, oh i dont have a boyfriend

my bad, girlfriend? im so old, i shouldnt assume. 

no girlfriend either but sometimes i wonder whats wrong with me. 

wrong?

i have no interest in dating, boys, girls, all i want to do is hang out with my family and animals and go to work, she said putting down her phone. 

how about your friends? i asked. are they fun? 

yeah, but i like to go places alone. is that weird? 

baby, im driving down the 405 on a saturday night for ten dollars with a stranger. who am i to say whats weird?

the freeway was unusually packed for how late it was. neither of us cared. we were alive.

you wouldn't know this, she said, but i lost a lot of weight recently and my parents are asking me if any boys have noticed. um THEY CERTAINLY HAVE. 

right on! i said.

it's bad, she quipped quickly. all they want is to put their babies in me. 

ah yes, well that is the dance, i said, changing lanes. and an interesting one. because if i was building a house would i make a tall narrow one or a wide, spacious extra roomy one with a kickass backyard?

she laughed, burped and farted all at the same time. 

then she apologized while laughing, so i rolled her window down, which startled her and she yelped. it was my turn to apologize.

are you married? she asked. 

oh i wouldn't put someone i loved through that, i said. 

she rolled up her window and sighed, ive never been in love. never even kissed anyone other than this kid when we were both 14. 

i looked back in the rear view. it was dark, but i could see she was pretty. really pretty actually.

were you hideous before you lost the weight?

i dont think so. maybe? but i seriously wasn't interested in anyone. im still not. 

super personal question but do you think you're asexual? 

what's that? she asked. 

what are they teaching you kids in these schools? it's when you don't fantasize about romantic situations, you dont look at porn, you skip the juicy parts in books, youre sorta grossed out in movies when people start making out. basically it's when you dont wanna bone. ever.

that could be me. im not sure. 

i still dont have a camera in my car so i decided not to say anything more. i didnt think she was going to give me a bad rating or accuse me of anything if i kept talking about sex, but this was just a short trip from the valley to westwood, i didnt wanna risk asking her things like has she ever gotten wet, masturbated a few times a week, or imagined being ravished by twin dua lipas

like i have. 

then she said, what's the purpose of being in love anyways? 

oh you sweet butterfly, i said.

love is a funny thing, a double edge sword, i said trying to keep it real. on one hand ive never been as intoxicated as the first times i was in love. i couldn't eat or sleep or think or even walk straight. and i had a goofy smile plastered on my face.

so like rolling on Molly? she asked. 

YES A LOT LIKE THAT, except you don't have to do whippits as youre feeling it fade. 

wait, what?

yeah, the next time youre about to roll, go to the grocery store and get a few cans of whipped cream and then later in the night as things are winding down, inhale some of the nitrous oxide and it'll kickstart things a little more. fun fact.

fine but whats the purpose of love? she insisted. 

as you can see, i said, lifting my cubs cap to reveal a freshly shaved bald head, im an old man. i have been extremely lucky in love and ive kissed women who were all out of my league. every one of them.

sounds like you have low self esteem, she sneered, same.

i do, but thats besides the fact. id show you photos but im driving. my point is, if any one should know what love is and what it’s good for, it should be your humble uber driver. but even i dont really know. 

really? she said, relieved. 

i guess it's to procreate, but look at this traffic. it’s the middle of the damn night. we dont need more people in LA. rent is high, food is high, the tide is high, more bodies taking up space isn't the answer. 

facts, she nodded, popping her gum. 

but i will say this, i think there is something to be said about teamwork

it makes the dream work? she tried to joke. 

it does! for example this car. this is a tesla model y. i can click this button and it could drive itself and get us to where you wanna go and probably won't hit anything in the way. but it sorta needs me to make sure you're safe. together we are a good team. 

hmmmm

but deeper than that is how this car got built. it wasnt elon. he didn't even start tesla. two other guys did. and for damn sure he didn’t build any of this. other, very smart people did. and they did it by learning from the errors and successes of people that came before them. all of the tesla team worked long, crazy hours, and elon paid them really well, but they asked each other questions and got ideas from electric cars in the past and other tech. no one just showed up with a blueprint and said yo, here's the tesla Y. 

she was quiet, i had lost her. 

two naked lovers in a futon in a joshua tree air bnb can be the same way, i continued. 

what? 

when youre in love with someone, there will be what the good book calls a still small quiet. and in that moment you will look at each other in the eyes and you might have just been very vulnerable and giving and intimate and in that tender period afterwards you might actually believe them when they say they love you, and you might finally wanna say it back, not because you think it’s the polite thing but because you mean it. truly. they rang your little bell. 

omg 

but not the one you think, the one in your heart. and thats when you begin to fall. all the safety measures you've built over all these years will get torn down and you are almost helpless with your feeling and emotions in that space and you might not have even realized how strong and tall that wall was. 

and if you're lucky the other person will be going through the same thing too and you might even say uh oh because youve entered a new realm, a good place, maybe the best place.

woah

and if you ask me that's where the kissing comes in because what good are words?  however, when it IS time to talk, you might say things youve always been afraid to say to anyone, not the i love you junk, but real stuff, like real fears, real traumas, real dreams, real desires. stuff youve packed down deep behind those walls. and again, if yr lucky the other person will be there for you and hear you and understand and maybe deliver some of theirs back at you and you'll say omg those arent so bad and they'll say yours arent so bad either and of course i'll do that gross funny thing bc fuckit lets do it now. and that's love. 

ok ok ok, she said excited, full of fresh new questions. but we were almost at her pad. 

so is it ok if i just want that just once a week or on the weekends? is that selfish? is that weird? is that mean?

we were at a stop light and i turned to her and i said, your life is yours.

there life is theirs.

maybe they’ll say i cant wait for every weekend now.

really?

sure but the funny thing about true love is that nitrous lasts like a full year so you're gonna be slightly outta control for way longer than you think 

my advice: fall.

$3 tip

she was a black prostitute in tight red shorts on a nowhere road in bullshit lancaster a quarter mile from an empty walmart 

she had pinged me right after i charged my tesla and turned the app back on

it was 1am

the stars were bright 

when i turned a corner, i saw three lancaster cop cars surrounding an old ford taurus crashed against one of the many parking lot light poles

young black guy on the curb with his hands in his long thick braids 

a minute later, i spotted her standing on the gravel walking away from it all and after rolling down my window i called out

yo tisha! im your uber!

she crossed the desert road and got in while yapping on the phone. 

120th and fig? i asked, confirming the $110 ride i would be paid less than half for driving her a little over an hour thru the crescent moonlight and away from the hot scene, back home to south central

yes GO nigga! she barked, slapping the back of my headrest 

obedient, i darted into the darkness. 

she was 21, native, knew all the streets, didnt have a man, was turned off by sex, and from what i could gather, borderline homeless; crashing with this one or that one, friends, mens, depends.

after ten minutes i know most of my passengers stories. with her, it was easier because she did, not, give, a damn

tisha reeked of stale tobacco and coconut oil. had a faint accent from the islands but swore she aint never been nowhere outside la

dark skinned, beautiful, but something had stolen her youth. looked 35. she talked to her mom first, then her girl and then me

motherfucker said, get out, switch seats with me and tell ‘em you was driving, she reported on speakerphone to her mother who replied after each complaint with lord jesus 

i took my phone off its holder and frantically but stealthily searched for a way to record this angel from above, but i was speeding and all i could do was turn on my camera, select video and record my knee. all i wanted was the audio.

but it didnt record. so i strained to commit to memory the modern way she described things 

i gave up on that too and just leaned back and tried not to fall in love with young tisha as she told me everything 

her man was from texas, tall, strong, shiny jewelry around his thugged out tatted up neck, but he possessed a temper which she said was fine with because she got bipolar too. nothing new.

she said if a man treat her right she’d give him everything. even if she only had a penny. but he was always angry and insatiably searching for something, and frustrated that he couldnt make real money due to his past and poor choices.

like what led him to lancaster that school night.

a few months ago, he had slipped into her instagram DMs randomly, flattered her, bought some sexy things off her amazon wishlist, which she modeled for him as they sexted on whatsapp

he moved out here but immediately lost his charm

after a piece i said nigga, what DO you want?

i dont need to be dicked down erry night, but it's nice to have a brothers face all on me. this negro don't hug on me, kiss me, fuck me, lick me or get a room with me. narry a fingering since he been out here. it’s always, i gotta do this, can you cash app me a dime for this, why you work so much?

BECAUSE I BE PAYING FOR YOUR RAGGEDY ASS ERRYDAY

tonight he come up to the blade and say, get in, we going to a party. i think do he want to pimp me? finally nigga! lets get this! but i get in and theres a white bitch in the front seat sucking on a sorry blunt. i say who bitch this? he say, nevermind get in. we go to the 110 and i say nuh uh. stop here. lemme run the track while its hot. but he say, shut up. shut up? what this white bitch doing to you? 

was it a set up? were they trying to have a threesome with you? was he scheming to use you for something? i asked, brimming with questions.

oh god, i do not know, she said. that girl said nothing! it was awkward as fuck. i sat in the back and watched her get up close to him like she his bitch. i said, guurrrrrl.

tisha then demonstrated how close she was to him by doing it to me and she noticed me flinch and sat back.

she inhaled a long drag on her vape and said, so i kept my black ass quiet because if i was finna fight that bitch right there, we would have wrecked on the freeway. so i just smoked my own blunt and didn't share and i texted my girl and then i guess i went to sleep because right before we crashed something told me to wake up and i woke up and BAM! that mothafucka hit a mothafuckin pole. dumb nigga. 

earlier i handed her a bottle of water and now that it was empty she was squeezing it making crazy plastic sounds. as we drove through the dark hills of canyon country on the 14, i thought what if she bipolar slits my throat and tries to steal my Y but then realizes she doesn't know how to start it?

then i thought, use your imagination for positive things dummy. but it was a struggle, lemme tell you.

the only thing i told that dumb bitch before i fell asleep, she contunued, was you best take your legs off the dashboard because in a crash your passenger princess ass be paralyzed. and sho nuff blonde bitch be howling when we hit that pole.

WHERE MY WEED, WHERE MY WEED? her man asked, once he woke up and saw what he had done

apparently he had just bought an eighth and didnt want the cops to find it before he did 

just an eighth? i wondered out loud, doing everything i could to let her know i was on her side. thats all? had he been drinking? 

no. he don’t drink. he dont do shit ‘cept talk about what he gonna do.

then why was he worried about so little pot? 

because this trifling fool was on parole and has two strikes and that white chickenhead was talkin’ bout some mess that didnt concern me so i got my phone, called my uber, and got to steppin’.

im too cute for this.

do you have another blunt, i asked her?

just this here, she said holding up her vape

if you roll down the window you can smoke it, i said at the rear view mirror. you been through it. but i gotta tell you, someones looking out for you because i gotta be the only uber way out here who actually wants to be going to LA at 1 am. from a crime scene. 

oh you stay in la? 

hollywood

my niiiggggga, she said and blew a stream of smoke out of the tinted window there in the back.

what was she thinking?

what was i thinking?

as we kept driving, she said her legs were hurting. i dug around in the square compartment that teslas have, where the gear shift would have been in the olden days. they are deep and light up when you push the button to open it.

in there i had tootsie rolls, my house key, jack-in-the-box napkins, ketchup packets, and a half bottle of “headache relief,” my final purchase from the 99 cent store.

you can have the whole bottle, i said, then mansplained what endorphins are and why the fact that she was only now hurting meant her body felt safe enough to take care of it instead of masking the pain.

sloppy. all these niggas be sloppy, she said, staring out into nothing 

this other man want to be my pimp. i say go on then, but he really a drug dealer. he aint gotta go out there and nearly get run over in long beach, he aint gotta be getting chased by crack heads and gangsters on western

why are these people chasing you? i asked.

to prove you need a pimp. because if i had one he'd bust they heads and say, stay away from my ho before i take yo hos.

so this man want me in his room with him at 11, but i say you should be out on fig with me at 11. thats the time to make money, not sleep. he always be sleepy! 

lord jesus, i heard on the phone. 

didnt know mom was back on speaker. 

if he's a drug dealer, why doesn't he snort a little coke to stay up? i asked her, hyperfocused on their relationship. i wondered which of the endless run-down motel rooms on figueroa she had to beg a man with a pocket full of drugs to help her turn tricks

because he sells it. 

i know, but why wouldnt he pinch to get the night rolling? does he never do the drugs he sells? i asked

yeah, he had just done some molly after i woke up around 5, thats why he was sleepy and sweet but dumb

damn i love ecstasy, i sighed

me too, she said

jesus, the phone squawked

$0 tip, but it’s ok, girl had a night

so many times i want to cancel the ride right before I get to the pick up.

psychologically, this might be why i’ve never been married or even engaged. 

it’s not that i haven’t dated incredible women, it’s because i am equal parts an idiot and also ridiculous.

it was a slow day of being peppered with $4 and $5 offers and i wanted to drive for a few hours and do some fat trips. so when i saw a $42 ping to go from silver lake to palmdale i couldn’t mash the phone quicker. especially after i saw it was estimated to take a little over an hour.

uber and lyft try to shoehorn us into a $25 an hour death spiral. so half-hour trips for $12, fifteen minute shorties for $6. if you take those trips you’ll never make enough profit to save up for your next rideshare vehicle after you and your passengers destroy your current car. 

the keyword is profit. people say, oh youre making $25 an hour you should be happy. we would be happy if the car was free and the insurance was free and the repairs were free and the women kissed you all over and sat in the back seat and said, oooooh weeeee do i love a bald king, heres my number and my best friends number. what time you get off? and also if the maintenance was free and food and drinks on the road were free. and it was nonstop $25 every hour for 8 straight hours. but that’s not the case. 

so you really need to make more than $25 an hour, which could be plausible if people tipped, but we know they dont, so I feel you’ve gotta adjust if youre gonna stay in this field.

step one, cut your expenses. in my case, i switched to an electric car whose energy and maintenance costs are a fraction of a gas vehicle. step two, take these long ass trips far away from la, even if a ride back is not guaranteed.

but by now you know the only guarantees in life: rock-n-roll will save yr soul and the chicago cubs will break your heart. so gamble on yourself while continually saying little prayers to the angels.

it was risky to pick up bebe and her kids at a silver lake children’s center. when i saw that the mom had a giant stroller, plus a collapsible wagon, plus three little girls, and mom was yelling at the kids because they had knocked over the wagon which spilled soccer balls and toys on the ground, i have to be honest, i thought about hightailing it out of there because — were the kids gonna be crying for an hour in the car? Was the mom going to be a terrible person? and who awaited us?

also, do i even like kids? even for an hour?

but they were black, as am i, and i have a soft spot for my people. i am not a nyc taxi driver who would have def canceled on that scene. i am a christian man who, even with the grace of god, still might not make it to heaven, so… i put on a smile and helped the kids and mom load up. 

they were three little girls. adorable. one cuter than the next. oldest was in 4th grade, middle was in 1st, the baby was in her car seat and almost one. deandra, delilah, and dee dee, respectively.

they immediately won me over.

mom was ok too. just on her last nerve.

shush for a sec, my princesses, i asked them, i need to tell uncle elon where we are going.

i pressed the button on the wheel and said the address. within seconds the giant screen gave us directions to their destination – grandma’s house up in palmdale. 

one thing i’ve noticed with tesla navigation: it gives me different routes than waze ever did over my years with rideshare. i’ve taken several trips from hollywood to palmdale. they typically go from the 101 freeway to the 5 to the 14, which is a like being at the bottom of a letter C and riding that curve to the left and up and back around. 

elon routed us as a bird would fly, a straight shot. but that would take us through the desert mountain road. A two-lane scenic wonder that in all my years id never taken.

it was like discovering there was a door to your attic and finding the most beautiful treasures up there. it was green and desolate and naturey and 20 minutes from where id spent the last 23 years of my so-called life. 

it was so remote that the girls’ internet and my music streaming capabilities died and for a while we were driving in silence, which if you know me, is unacceptable. 

who knows a song? i asked the kids, who were being good even after the mom had warned me “they bad kids.”

I DO I DO, deandra said, but then got cold feet when she couldnt think of the first line. 

who is it by? i asked.

she didn’t know. 

was it… and i sang poorly, but loudly like bill murray in a dive bar, i’m not a girl… not yet a wo-man

mom laughed, the girls didnt get it. 

NO, the eldest child said, all covered in a hoodie despite how hot it was outside. we’d learn later she and her mom were hit as pedestrians when two cars crashed into each other, and that she was insecure about the scar on her forehead. 

mom was stoked because a big settlement would be coming any day and they wouldn’t have to bop from a crappy motel to aunt’s apartment to grandmas house.

their $75k ship was fixin’ to come in.

was it? and i sang even louder this time: a screen door slams, mary’s dress sways, and like a vision she dances across the porch as a radio plays 

NOOOO, Deandra yelled laughing 

ROY ORBISON SANGIN FOR THE LONELY, i continued, poorly but with purpose HEY IT’S ME AND I WANT YOU ONLY. DONT TURN ME HOME AGAIN I JUST CANT FACE MYSELF ALONE AGAIN

NOOOOOOO! the two older girls said laughing almost screaming

he crazy delilah said, directly behind me. 

lil dee dee, what song do you know? i asked.

she don’t talk yet, the mom said. 

dee dee was playing with her ipad in the middle of the back seat which was making sounds in spanish. 

does she parlez vous espanol? i asked. 

no, i think she might be slow. 

i looked in the rearview at the little child, smiling at the cartoon animals dancing on her screen, smudged with fingerprints. fully engrossed in her world. she was eating the remains of the candy corn i had handed out to the kids, which i had just purchased at the dollar general because apparently halloween is somehow weirdly near.

don’t be surprised if she already knows how to speak but has just been holding it in, i told the mom. one day next month she’s gonna tap you on the shoulder and in a full blown british accent be all, mummy, may i have a spot of tea before i resign for the evening? two lumps of sugar if you please. 

the girls laughed as we drove through the bright sunlight in the mountains.

i get scared going through here, deandra said. poor dear. we were up high and the roads were one s-curve after another with steep drops. some of the travelers had pulled over at a vista to take a photo on a cliff side.

white folks, momma said quietly.

do you all believe in the lord? i asked. they said yes. i said do you all say your prayers every night? yes, they said. 

you know you don’t have to save your prayers for night? god likes to hear from you in the day too. he loves hearing from you. let’s say a prayer. 

the mom looked at me like, yep, he crazy.

lord, please help — girls repeat after me — lord

lord, they said. 

please help our handsome driver 

please help our handsome driver 

grow his hair back! 

grow his ahahahahahahaaha

i lifted my cubs cap and said, ok when you laugh the prayer doesn’t work. focus, ladies!

let’s try a different one.

lord, please let us 

lord. please let us 

make it to grandma’s house safely. 

make it to grammys house safely! 

a-men! i said loudly. 

a-men said deandra, delilah and the mom. 

and a few seconds later, a-men chirped little dee dee in the sweetest tiniest voice. 

$0 tip

1:30am. 20something fresh-faced guy with frazzled hair walked outside a packed bar that had just announced last call.

he hugged a blonde, then a brunette. friendly-like.

when he opened my door, i had to yell, CHARLIE because it was so loud out there. everyone was hopped up on booze and summer nights and full moon and et cetera, probs

YEAH! he yelled back. got in. shut the door.

have a good time in there? 

it was ok. 

just ok? were the pretty girls not pretty enough for ya

meh, he hiccupped

oh sorry, were you looking for pretty boys? i asked. never know. 

he hiccupped again, and asked ever feel like you've seen enough? 

no, i said. kill yourself. 

charlie paused, then laughed his ass off. 

he was in the business. from austin. produced some pretty big music videos. i told him, thank you, because im from the generation that grew up on those things and thats the best way to learn about new music.

he said, it doesnt pay, and theres long hours. no one cares.

i was like, yeah but you’re learning. if making art was easy, youd be bored of that too.

art, he scoffed.

it was warm. there were a surprisingly number of hookers out. most looked like moms in short dresses. some trying for eye contact. others pretending they were waiting for the bus. 

ever notice hookers dress less skanky than anyone on these streets? i asked charlie. who hadn’t until then.

ever get tempted by any of them? he asked, as we were stopped at a light, and a shockingly beautiful young latina shook her barely covered bottom in our direction, energetically. 

what would i even do with her? i asked. she had sneakers and a mini dress. several shiny necklaces reflected the street light above. both silver and gold. long tattoos crawled up her bare legs. red lipstick. a lot to take in. but i did appreciate her energy. and deep down i shared in her joy of being alive in this incredible part of town on a perfect night. 

free.

what do you mean what would you do with her? he asked. 

well, im a weirdo. the only things i pay for are things either i want done quickly or things i cant figure out how to do.

so like, ive got this roomba, and also a ring doorbell. theyre sitting in open boxes because i dont know how to hook them up. if she could install those things, for sure id give her $100.

he laughed, and said, you wouldnt want to do things with her your girlfriend, or, are you married? your wife – won’t do with you?

maybe i need to turn this uber around and get you back to that bar. it is saturday night in hollywood and those girls you hugged got dolled up for hours and are now full of overpriced booze. why would they say no to your little kinks?

charlie said, the line is you dont pay for them to come, you pay for them to leave.

i guess he really wanted this to be about hookers and not him. fine.

heres what id do if i had money for hookers, tonight. id get that big black mom over there, that short mom over there, those two skinny sad ones over there and you and id pay ‘em all to dance in my living room for an hour.

and have you shoot it on your phone for a music video.

ahahahaha, he laughed and hiccupped.

look, if youre gonna puke theres a barf bag in the thing in front of you, i said. 

im not gonna puke. he said, we turned down western with its hot dog vendors and taco tents lined with white twinkly lights.

he said, i know what id do with her, referring probably to the dancing sneakers girl.

whats that? 

id have her tell me it’ll be ok.

$4.74 tip