The Age of Technology has impacted this planet like no other age!   Electronic gadgets of every kind have been designed to simplify the tedium of daily routines.  Nowadays,  people have very little need of thinking and planning for themselves.  Computer storage files and flash drives have virtually eliminated the need for paper documents.  E-mails, text messaging and Instagram have replaced handwritten letters, notes and postcards sent through the mail.  There are apps for that.  News events from foreign countries are broadcast instantly, in real time, through television, media apps on computers, cell phones, iWatches and tablets.  Food, whether a hot meal or a week’s worth of groceries, can be delivered at your door within minutes.  There are grocery apps, food service apps, wine tasting apps and even dessert apps!  There’s pretty much an app for everything!  Crawling through heavy traffic and paying hefty parking fees are no longer an issue.  Commuters do not rely on limousine companies, shuttle services, busses, mass transit systems or taxi cabs, and begging friends for rides to the airport is a thing of the past.  Party goers revel deep into the wee hours of the morning with no worries about the hazards of driving home.  Yes, indeed — new and convenient transportation services are available at the tap of a finger on a smart phone with no preplanning and no reservations required!  Simply download the free app, enter current credit card information and your name, and voila!  A profile is created —  you are free to travel anywhere at any time whether or not there is any gas in your car at all!

Just like taxi cabs are easily identified by their bright yellow color and illuminated TAXI signs glowing from the roofs, modern rideshare services are also easy to spot.  Bright pink mustaches fastened to the front grills of cars mark Lyft drivers while other services have opted for more discreet front windshield stickers to distinguish their fleets from others.   While marketing Lyft with such a cute and quirky gimmick keeps this service in the forefront of noticeability, it is ultimately the good service, pricing and efficiency of the app that has catapulted Uber to the top of the ridesharing business . . . or has it?

Let’s examine.  Just exactly who uses these services?  It should come as no surprise that it is the Millennials (those youngsters between the ages of 22-34) who constitute fifty-seven percent of the total rideshare passengers, while only a mere seven percent are riders aged 45 and greater.  It should also come as no surprise that male riders make up sixty percent of the total passenger population.  So . . . where does that leave the sheltered woman in her 60s whose husband STRONGLY and CONSISTENTLY suggests that she “just take Uber” as a convenience for attending an event quite a distance from their home but only a couple blocks from his office?  I’ll TELL you where it puts her . . . terrified and alone, all by herself, smack dab inside a car with a complete stranger whose command of English is negligible, whose attention to and compliance with California’s rules of the road are totally disregarded and whose physical appearance could easily be mistaken for any one of the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay detention camp . . . THAT’S where it puts her!

“Hi Honey,” greeted my husband from the other end of the phone, “I was thinking about the dinner tonight.  It starts at 6:30, and if I come ALL the way back home to pick you up and we drive ALL the way back to Downtown L.A., we’ll be stuck in rush hour traffic!!  We’ll be definitely late to the event.  Why don’t you just take Uber and I’ll meet you there?”

“Yikes!!!!  UBER?!  By mySELF??”  My thoughts darted around at warp speed, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for NOT doing it while also NOT sounding selfish for wanting him to pick me up.

“Um . . . UUUber?” I began, ” . . . UUUUUUber?  I’m not really comfortable doing that!”

It was the only thing I could come up with!

“Oh . . . It’s easy!” he said, obviously trying to encourage me to be more cosmopolitan.  “I’ve already downloaded the app on your phone.  You don’t need any money.  The fare will be charged to our credit card and there is no need to tip the driver.  All you have to do is tap the icon, enter our home address then the destination address.  A map will pop up displaying a little car.  You can watch it as it gets closer to you.  Actually, it’s sort of fun! It would SURE make things easier for me, and you know . . .  I’ve been in meetings all day with VERY difficult people . . . I just can’t wrestle with rush hour traffic ALL the way home and then ALL the way back down here!  I don’t need any more hassles today!”

Ugh.  If I insist that he come and pick me up, I come off as selfish, unreasonable and insensitive.  I guess it’s no big deal.   I mean, how hard can it be?  Tap the icon, watch the little car, and . . . get myself down to the dinner (which I was only lukewarm on attending anyway.) 

“O.K.  I’ll see you there,” I said with little to no feeling as I ended the call.

Time came for me to tap the icon to summon my driver. A map of the immediate neighborhood along with a slowly moving little car symbol appeared on the screen of my smartphone, just like my husband told me it would.  The following information was just beneath the map:

Your driver, Thanchanok, will arrive in 2 minutes.  Silver Nissan, License No. XXXXXX

Two minutes suddenly changed to four minutes!  I watched, helplessly, as the little car on the map took a wrong turn and headed west away from my house.  I had no way of contacting the driver; I simply watched him on the map as he turned and wandered, turned and wandered several more times before heading back in my direction.

Fifteen minutes later, the Nissan screeched to a halt curbside, and a very disheveled Thanchanok pushed open the passenger side door from his position behind the steering wheel, cigarette dangling from his lips.

“I get loss!  So loss!” he said as I reluctantly approached the car.   “Please to hurry!  Please! Please! Sit in car!  I late!” he ordered.

Against ALL my better judgment and contrary to cacophony of voices screaming at me from inside my head, I climbed into the back seat of the car rather than riding shotgun.  The air inside was so heavy with musky cologne, the EPA would have designated it unhealthy for humans and would have relegated that jalopy to the scrap yard.

The door had barely closed before Thanchanok shifted into drive, slammed his foot on the pedal and sped down the street toward the freeway.

“We go DOWNtown, to DOWNtown, I know!” he said, bobbing his head up and down.  “We take sneaky shortcut . . . through Chinatown . . . yes, Chinatown . . . much faster!!”

There was no turning back now!  Whether I liked it or not, I was committed to the ride with a lunatic behind the wheel of what could very well have been a stolen car judging by the speed and urgency with which Thanchanok was driving.  I quickly double-checked the seatbelt around my waist and grabbed onto the door handle with both hands so tightly that the knuckles on my hands bulged and whitened.   My heart beat so rapidly that a massive coronary would have been a welcomed relief!

An incoming call on Thanchanok’s cell phone distracted him from his primary task: getting ME to my destination . . . safely!  The car dodged, swerved and jerked its way through the bowels of Highland Park, then East L.A. through the residential streets of Chinatown and finally into the business district of downtown Los Angeles.  My driver was deeply engaged in  a very heated and highly animated conversation in his native tongue for the remainder of my ride!  I have NO IDEA what was being said, but I seriously contemplated thrusting my car door open and ducking and rolling from the moving vehicle in order to save myself!

“Hey!  Driver!” I shouted in a not-so-ladylike tone,  “Ya, YOU!!!  You just passed my stop!  Turn around!  No . . . better yet, just STOP RIGHT HERE!  I’ll get out and walk!”  I screamed.  But . . . he either didn’t hear me, didn’t understand me or just didn’t care!!  He turned onto the next street, a one way street . . . going the wrong direction!   Horns honked, breaks screeched, I screamed, and Thanchanok kept on arguing with whomever was on the other end of his call!  When he finally pulled up at my prescribed destination, I freed myself from the confines of that rolling death trap and leaned against the building hyperventilating and taking stock of all my body parts to make sure everything was still in place!   I also metaphorically tied the straps of my Big Girl Thinking Cap on for when I first set angry, livid, FURIOUS, tear-stained eyes on my husband for whose convenience I had taken Uber!

The lobby was full of attendees fully involved in social conversation, cocktails in hand, when I made my Oscar-winning entrance.  Spotting me from across the room, my husband excused himself from his colleagues and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek.

“What happened?  I was beginning to get a little worried!  How was Uber?  Here . . . I picked up your name tag for you!” he said.

“BLISTERED BE THY TONGUE!” I hissed from a tightly clenched jaw, a smile on my face so that casual onlookers would think I was delighted to have arrived.  “Don’t you DARE talk to me right now!”  After my heartbeat returned to normal, my breathing regained it’s regular rhythm and my composure was solid, I explained exactly how utterly traumatic my Uber experience had been and swore on a mountain of Bibles that I would never, ever, ever, EVER do it again!  EEEEEEEEEEver.

“Don’t say that!” said my husband, “You just didn’t do it right!  When you activated the app, you didn’t tap on Uber Black Car or Uber Select!  EVERYBODY knows to do that!  You probably took Uber-X!  Next time, make sure you upgrade!”

NEXT time???  NEXT TIME!!!???  There. Will. BE. NOOOOOOOOOO NEXT TIME!  And . . . WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ABOUT UPGRADES????????

Just as women who’ve recently delivered babies vow never to have another child then proceed to have a couple more, my promise never to use Uber again also weakened and I found myself giving the ride service another chance.  Again, for my husband’s convenience, I succumbed to using the Uber app for another event in downtown Los Angeles . . . but I was definitely careful to choose an upgrade.

“O.K., so  . . . maybe it won’t be so bad this time!  Of course it would have been nice if SOMEONE had told me about Uber Black Car or Uber Select the first time, but . . . I know about it now, so I’ll try it,” I thought. 

I picked up my smartphone, swiped through the screens, found the Uber icon and tapped it gently to activate the app.  Now that I knew what to look for, I firmly tapped on Uber Select, entered the required pick up/drop off addresses, and proceeded out to the street to wait for my chariot.  The following information appeared directly beneath the pop-up map:

Your driver, Artoosh, will arrive in 3 minutes.  Black Mercedes, License No. XXXXXX

Three minutes suddenly changed to seven minutes!  Again I watched, helplessly, as the little car on the map took a wrong turn and headed west away from my house. I had no way of contacting the driver; I simply watched him on the map as he turned and wandered, turned and wandered several more times before heading back in my direction.

Uh oh!!  This isn’t boding well!  So far it’s just like the last time!!  If that crazy guy shows up again but in a black Mercedes, I’m definitely NOT GETTING IN THE CAR!!! 

I waited and watched as Artoosh’s little car turned around and headed back in my direction.  Shortly, his shiny, late model black Mercedes turned onto my street and stopped at the curb.  The driver’s side door opened and a tall man dressed in a black suit, complete with a tie, introduced himself as he opened the rear passenger door for me.  He had a full head of thick, wavy black hair, a complete full beard and mustache, a long, sharp nose, and one very heavy eyebrow that spanned the distance across his face between his forehead and his eyes.  I was happy to see that there was no cigarette dangling from his mouth, but . . . the scent of heavy musk cologne hung thickly in the air, giving me cause for concern.

“Please to ‘scuse,” he began with an accent so thick I had to concentrate on every syllable, “would you please confirm to me the address of your destination?  I would appreciate that most assuredly.”

O.K.  Not as bad as before, but . . . . I reiterated the address for him.

I secured my seatbelt, cracked open the window for some breathable air, then pulled my phone from my evening bag and typed a message to my husband:

FYI . . . I just got into a black Mercedes with a guy named Artoosh . . . just in case you never see me again! 

and I pressed SEND.

“Please to ‘scuse again, Madam, but do you prefer any particular type of music for the radio to play for you?” asked the driver.

“No, that’s o.k., but thank you,” I answered.

Alright . . . he gets points for that.  

“And Madam?” he asked, “Did you tell anyone you were taking Uber?”

There it was!  The fatal blow!!  I just KNEW Artoosh was going to kidnap me, tie me up at some abandoned warehouse and demand a HUGE ransom for me . . . or WORSE!  Why in the world would he ask me something like that???!!!!  Very disturbing!  VERY disturbing indeed!  I took my keys out of my purse and laced them through my fingers to use as weapons when the need arose.  (I learned that trick from Sue Grafton in her mystery novel, “K is for Kidnap!”)

“Of COURSE I did,” I lied, “I told my husband and a couple of my friends about it and in fact, I even texted them as soon as I got in the car!  I texted them your name and the make and  license plate number of your car!”

So there, you creep!  I prevented a crime in progress!  Where do I go to pick up my medal?

“No!  Please to ‘scuse, Madam, you most regrettably misunderstand me!  I am new Uber driver, wanting for to get much business.  Artoosh would be most happy to have friends of clients ask for me to drive.”

Oh sure, Buddy!  I wasn’t born yesterday you know!!!!  You just got caught trying to kidnap me and now you’re trying to get yourself out of it!  Just shut your mouth and keep on driving . . . I’ve already keyed in 9-1-1 on my phone and I’m SOOOOOO ready to push SEND! Just try me, Buster!

Neither one of us spoke for the duration of the ride.  I was desperately trying to remember the name of the free app college coeds are encouraged to download in the event they are being stalked!  I KNEW there was an app for that and I needed it NOW!  Artoosh drove very professionally, he obeyed ALL traffic signals and posted speed signs, and I sat quietly (but nervously at-the-ready to call for help).  I know I was afraid of him and, in hindsight, he was probably afraid of me!

This time my husband was waiting for me.

“How was it?  Better?  You don’t look quite as frazzled,” he said.

“It was better, but . . . I was nearly kidnapped.  I hope you’re happy!” I said.

Admittedly, Uber Select was a much better experience than my first go around, but my mother’s words to me and my own words to my children haunted me:  “Never EVER get into a  car with a stranger!”  And here I was, actually hiring people I’d never met from a smartphone app to drive me!  All I knew was that I pressed a button on my smartphone and a few minutes later a stranger arrived at my door!  These strangers HAVE MY HOME ADDRESS and I PROVIDED THEM WITH THE INFORMATION!  How irresponsible are we consumers to blindly input such valuable information on a cell phone app for any internet hacker to access?  There are already apps for just about anything, but . . . what about plain old, home grown common sense?  Surely there must be an app for that!