Uber Tales (15)

Uber So

So, I cruise down Seam Street in Sunninghill or Sandringham looking for a solid shady spot in a silent side-street to sit in when I notice that there are no side-streets anymore. Then a thought occurs to me. It isn’t much of a thought, but still here it is. I’m slightly startled to think that all side-streets have been usurped by the uninviting gates of security complexes.

It isn’t simply the lack of shady spots and side-streets that so upset me, it is also my sadly sagging ratings that sours my day. What do some people want? Sure, I can see some reason to complain about my navigational skills or lack thereof. I suck at it. I often take left to mean right and vice versa, I’m ashamed to say, but so it is. However, if you complain about my super smooth and distinctly Parisian style of driving, saying it is dangerous and my distinctly non-Parisian style of service, saying it’s not there, I’m seriously concerned about your sense of self and of humanity. I want to call you a so-and-so, but I shan’t.

So, Uber drivers are human too. They also have worries and concerns and the traffic is the least of them. Once again I have to say the rating is seriously serious. Think twice before you give less (I know it’s a solecism) than 5-stars.


Dangerous driver? Methinks not.

I can also give you as passenger some pointers to improve your rating. First of all, be easy to find. If you sitting in a security complex where they consider taking DNA samples of anybody who isn’t a resident communicate with the gate and don’t make me phone to find your unit number. That gets you a two. Secondly, don’t slam my door and so I can go on, but I won’t lest I sound hissy.

With that off my breast, let me keep you abreast of my plans. My Facebook page UberchuckV is making great strides to greatness. It now stands at almost 2600 likes, not bad after two months, but soon it will soar, methinks. The plan is to allow my passengers to live-stream their trips back to the page and tell their several thousand friends they’re doing so when they’re doing so. I’m sure you can see how the selfie generation will suck that up.

Step two of the plan is to seek some form of sponsorship, a car or something. Say what? Yes, an automatic car, no less. See? I won’t repeat the sorry story of my sore feet, save to say they’re still sore and the situation increasingly sucks as I now start my days with sore feet. So say what you want, I think my plan is superb.

So, I’m sitting in a shady spot in a silent side-street somewhere thinking of the girl who is no longer speaking to me and whose name doesn’t start with an ‘S’. To the girl who said: “So, Chuck?” I say sorry. It’s such a pity her name doesn’t start with an ‘S’ and so I conclude this missive.

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September 27th


October 2018
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