I do not have a car and I live in LA. I hate driving; it makes me feel anxious and distracted at the same time. I’ve never been a good driver – my mom fears driving with me. Maybe I’m one of those people that can’t handle manmade engines.
Luckily, I moved to LA at a time when Uber and Lyft skyrocketed. Less expensive than owning a car but more costly than Los Angeles’ practically non-functional public transportation system, Uber and Lyft fall somewhere between having a chauffeur and begging your unemployed next door neighbor to give you a ride to work because your car broke down and you don’t have enough money to get it repaired.
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I don’t go to that many places during the day – I work well with semi-regular routines, coffeehouse chats, and exercise options within a two-mile radius of my house – but lately when I do have to go somewhere, I’ll turn Uber or Lyft. Lately, Uber’s been the more reliable one of the two.
Everyday I have a different driver — I never know who I will get. Typically it is a male, and so there is an assumed social contract that I will listen to some of their pontificating and not talk much about myself. The truth is that I do like to listen; it gives me story ideas.
Then I met Solon. I’d gone to sleep the night before missing the Midwest and woken up that next morning to an Uber drive with Solon, who moved to Los Angeles 11 months ago from the great state of Iowa to pursue one dream and one dream only. That’s right — he came here to sell his fuel efficient and amazingly “smart” engine. He had to leave Iowa, where he knew this engine both wouldn’t sell or even get recognition. I didn’t know anything about cars, but I was open to hearing his story.
Out to Los Angeles he came, and after four months of searching — finding someone to create the engine of your dreams is like “trying to feed a dinosaur” he explained to me —he found the perfect team out in Torrance.
As we took a terrible winding route suggested to us by the Waze app that favors side streets and ignores hills, he told me that his engine would soon be in all cars.
We sped by the many parked cars; as I looked out at them, I decided to share a thought about his business venture:
“Totally,” I said. “Just visualize all of these parked cars with your engine inside of them.”
He said exactly, that’s what he’d been doing.
“Listen, you’re ahead of the game already then,” I told him. “All you gotta do is visualize and this shit will manifest.”
We shared a chuckle about Solon’s soon-to-be world domination via Midwestern engines whilst speeding past the sadly water-lacking Silver Lake Reservoir.
“It’s not often that I meet other Midwesterners out here in Los Angeles,” Solon said, grinning, as we reached the corner of Sunset and Parkman, our final destination.
“It’s true,” I replied while exiting the car, wishing Solon the best of luck with his engine. He gave me his business card — I should keep it as a souvenir, he said, something to remember him by.
On the way home that day, I booked Sylvester. He was nothing like Solon, and I liked that about him.
Sylvester arrived with a smile and a neutral-smelling car. He was ready to ride.
I confessed to him that I was supposed to get a ride home with a friend but she had a job interview that day and I really didn’t really want to talk with her because I knew she’d be stressing about the job interview and I was wiped. I just wanted to sip my iced coffee that I’d recently purchased at Café Tropical in Silver lake, and go home.
I didn’t even need to complete the thought because Sylvester finished my sentence for me: “And ride in an Uber!” he said, emphatically.
“Exactly!” I replied.
We were vibin’.
Traffic was good. We joked and laughed about how Uber had marketshare domination over car service in L.A. I gazed out the window, sipping my iced coffee, watching the palm trees as we flew by. Though this would cost me $10, it was a stress-free and friendly experience that I felt was worth that cash.
I asked Sylvester if he liked his Toyota Prius. He said he loved it, and without this Prius he wouldn’t be able to drive for Uber. The Prius got amazing mileage per gallon, and it was so smooth. We were one step away from being featured in a car commercial. I didn’t care.
“Yeah it is,” I said, agreeably.
I love this smooth experience, too.
Sylvester told me that driving for Uber was an adventure. He ended up in places he never thought he’d go — like Malibu! The last time he ended up there, it was the end of the day, and a beautiful sunset melted over the ocean.
Sylvester pulled over, turned his back to the sunset, took a selfie, and then he texted it to a bunch of friends.
“Not a bad way to end the workday!” I said, excited about Sylvester’s selfie practices.
He smiled back at me from the rearview mirror.
As our drive ended, I thanked Sylvester for the swift and pleasant delivery. I knew I’d never see him again because he mostly drove on the West Side, but I hoped to see his Malibu selfie somewhere online, someday.
Read all of Crystal Paradise by Alicia Eler
Crystal Paradise is a weekly column published every Tuesday by Los Angeles-based writer Alicia Eler that navigates the naturally occurring weirdnesses that spark at the intersection of art, technology and travel.
