UBER

AND HOW IT CAME TO BE



Those of you, who know me, know that I suffer from a case of "happy feet". I get itchy from inaction and I inevitably have to find something to do. And at least for the past seventy years, it has involved some kind of activity. If you know me, you also know that I love to be around people. I'm only an isolationist when I want to be and that is, mostly, at home. I've often been asked by younger people: "Explain to me again how you get tired of being retired?"

I grew up an "Army Brat" who was born in Germany and lived in Europe and all over the United States. I got lucky however, as my father, a career Army officer, separated from his service in Monterey, California. So after an enormous number of elementary schools, I was able to settle down and finish my education in one place. For an Army kid that's as good as it gets. That's the reason I call, Monterey, home.

About ten months ago, Uber ride share came to the Tri-Cities area of Tennessee where I reside. I figured that I should at least give this employment a try. Let me see... First of all, it gets me out of the house. Second, I learn my way around the area where I live. Third, I get to meet people, most of them fun and interesting and some of them very fun and very interesting. Plus, as a retired cop, who put tires to the pavement for a long, long time, I am not averse to driving and think I am pretty good at it. But best of all, I get paid to do this.

The Tri-Cities area is in North Eastern Tennessee. The "Tri" is comprised of Kingsport, home to the Eastman Chemical Company, Johnson City, home of East Tennessee State University and Bristol, home to one of NASCAR's most famous race tracks, Lightning in a Bottle.  The area, it could be argued, is also the roots of country music. It's a fascinating region for a historian as it was the frontier for nearly a hundred years prior to the Revolutionary War. You see, Tennessee used to be part of North Carolina. Then to repay its war indebtedness to the Federal Government, North Carolina gave the lands that are now Tennessee to the government and the rest, as they say, is history. This truly is Davy Crockett country. His birthplace is not too far from my home.

My move to this part of the country came about as the result of grandchildren. Although I always thought that California would be my retirement home, as my daughters and their families began to relocate to Tennessee, I felt compelled to follow. So I often tell my riders, when they ask how I ended up here:"The Reader's Digest version of that is "grandkids'". It is beautiful country and the real estate market was advantageous for someone making the move from the California housing market. When I first moved here, I put a big California-style deck on the back of my house. The next year, I covered half of it so that I can sit out when it rains (about the same amount as Portland, Oregon). And as I try to fit in with the locals, I now refer to it as the "back porch". Another plus was that there is no income tax here. And besides I think my wife would have come East without me had I decided to let my mule-headed side show.

The first few months were sort of slow going in the Uber market but as folks became aware of the service being offered in the Tri-Cities, ridership has picked up. This particular market place would be hard to make a living in. However for a retired cop, it works out fine for me. I always have the option to choose when and where I want to drive. So if there is a pressing event that I want to attend, I don't have to say those inevitable words: "Sorry, I have to work." A very nice thing for someone with
happy feet......

Graveyards Aren't So Scary in the Morning

"Get Me From The Church on Time"


Ubering is my new passion.  I will write a story on how the Uber thing came to pass another time but for now I have been meaning to share some stories about rides that I have been giving.  On this particular Sunday morning, I received an early morning call to a freeway intersection with a local popular street.  I first responded to the trucking company that has a rather large yard there.  I frequently pick up truck drivers that are having their trucks repaired and take them to a local hotel for a day or two.  Alas, no truck driver this particular morning. 

Finally, I called my perspective passenger. Josh answered. I told him that I'm having a little trouble locating him.  He reiterated that he is at the intersection and added that he is in the graveyard of the church at that intersection.  I ask him to stay on the phone with me as I am only a minute away.  As I crested the hill I saw Josh .... and he truly was wandering about the graveyard with his cell phone pressed against his ear, explaining to me that he is trying to figure a way out of the graveyard.  You see, the church is not being used at the present time, the driveways are all gated and the graveyard has a wall around it.  Relieved to see me,  Josh, a good-looking young man of about twenty-six years, six feet tall, well-dressed but otherwise looking like something the proverbial cat dragged in, approached the wall to be rescued. 

I digress:  You see in police work, we had a term for folks like Josh; they were called Leftovers. It's not necessarily a derogatory description, but it can be.  It basically means something went terribly wrong in the wee hours of the morning and they are, at daylight, till rescue, wandering amongst us.  I use the term wander because if you have ever seen a person coming off an alcohol induced Good Time .... well, they don't exactly stride. It's more of a calculated shuffle. In Josh's case, it resembled "Get Me From The Church on Time".  

Josh finally scales the wall and his escape from the graveyard is complete.
Once in the car,  I determine his destination.  Pleasantries are exchanged. Josh takes a couple deep breaths and sighs in a manner that indicates: Now everything is going to be fine.  

After a couple of miles in silence, I can't help myself and I ask:  "Josh, you're not the graveyard grounds keeper, are you?"  "No", he replies, "I was partying with this girl last night, we had had a few drinks and for some reason she told me to get out of her car.  She then drove off and left me.  I tried to call for an Uber but I was having a little trouble working the application. So I laid down between two tombstones and went to sleep. The sun woke me up and I called you."  "I see," I said.  

Then I noticed Josh was on the phone.  The conversation went something like this: "Hey Mom, yea, Uber Bob has me and I should be home in about fifteen minutes".  He then put his head back and rested, responding only to prompts by Uber Bob regarding directions.  There was no tip that morning, however I feel sure that Josh was very grateful to finally be home.... Apparently, it had been a long night.