- Joined
- May 11, 2010
- Messages
- 20,740
- Location
- Charlotte, NC
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Snorting his way across the USA
... and the meaning of life, all courtesy of my Uber driver last night.
Imagine that you are being driven to your office party by Dale Earnhardt Jr., minus the #8 Camaro, five point harness, nomex suit, helmet, and skill factor. Our man, I'll call him Sanjeet, not his real name, has never really appeared to grasp the concept that there are accelerator positions that are in between "on" and "off." Thank god, or rather Vishnu would probably be appropriate in this case, that he was driving a 2019 Honda Accord, and not a 700 hp Dodge Charger Hellcat.
I'm thinking it would be a terrible irony that I'm taking Uber to the party to avoid causing a fatality on the way back, only to become one on the way there. I was pondering the crash ratings of the Accord, and instinctively assuming the "brace" position in the rear seat has he changed lanes, unsure if that tactic was viable for a rear end collision, which was equally likely. And then there it was. Sanjeet mashed the accelerator to the floor, shot in to the fast lane, rounded the freeway curve and...
Even he acted horrified at the line of stopped traffic as alarms sounded, and the car went in to maximum braking mode automatically at the exact time of the alarm. Well, the system worked.
"Um, this is an office party that I don't really want to be there for, and that I'm way early as it is, so, you don't have to get there quickly on my account."
"Ha ha ha. But I'm trying to get you there early on my account. The more fares, the more quickly, the more in my account."
I mean you gotta love Uber. It's cheap enough that it's a viable mode of transportation when a Yellow Cab is out of the question, plus the cars tend not to smell like curry kitchens or Turkish whorehouses (although the former was the exception for tonight.) You push a button, it's a few minutes a way at most, you hop in, you hop out, no fiddling for payment, win win. But damn, there are those times...
Imagine that you are being driven to your office party by Dale Earnhardt Jr., minus the #8 Camaro, five point harness, nomex suit, helmet, and skill factor. Our man, I'll call him Sanjeet, not his real name, has never really appeared to grasp the concept that there are accelerator positions that are in between "on" and "off." Thank god, or rather Vishnu would probably be appropriate in this case, that he was driving a 2019 Honda Accord, and not a 700 hp Dodge Charger Hellcat.
I'm thinking it would be a terrible irony that I'm taking Uber to the party to avoid causing a fatality on the way back, only to become one on the way there. I was pondering the crash ratings of the Accord, and instinctively assuming the "brace" position in the rear seat has he changed lanes, unsure if that tactic was viable for a rear end collision, which was equally likely. And then there it was. Sanjeet mashed the accelerator to the floor, shot in to the fast lane, rounded the freeway curve and...
Even he acted horrified at the line of stopped traffic as alarms sounded, and the car went in to maximum braking mode automatically at the exact time of the alarm. Well, the system worked.
"Um, this is an office party that I don't really want to be there for, and that I'm way early as it is, so, you don't have to get there quickly on my account."
"Ha ha ha. But I'm trying to get you there early on my account. The more fares, the more quickly, the more in my account."
I mean you gotta love Uber. It's cheap enough that it's a viable mode of transportation when a Yellow Cab is out of the question, plus the cars tend not to smell like curry kitchens or Turkish whorehouses (although the former was the exception for tonight.) You push a button, it's a few minutes a way at most, you hop in, you hop out, no fiddling for payment, win win. But damn, there are those times...