When the first self-driving cars hit the San Francisco streets, I felt immediately suspicious. I feared the likelihood of being put into a dangerous situation was too high, and I didn’t even want to walk in front of them as a pedestrian.
But word of mouth is a powerful advertiser, and it wasn’t long before my friend shoved me in the back of one. We went that night to Twisters 4DX, and I told myself there’s logic in trying newer technologies the same night. To cap it off, we squeezed in a preview of Apple Vision Pro goggles.
Getting into a Waymo felt a little embarrassing at first. It signaled to people around me that I’m embracing the Tech Future, and that doesn’t mesh well with the reality of who I am: I judge this industry’s absurd wealth while others go without, and I also refuse to have an Amazon account.
Given this, I want to say my friend literally shoved me into the car for cinematic effect, but we all politely glided into one at the curb of an Outer Sunset avenue. It helped that this was a peaceful SF burb; No traffic present to honk as Waymo arrived, and I could stand outside without some obvious sketch factors like I’d find in downtown SF.
The LED panel atop Satan’s chariot displayed my friend’s initials in a pretty lavender — this car was for us. He encouraged me to take the back seat, then pushed a button to pop open the door handles. In general I think this feature makes getting someone out of a car in an emergency situation more difficult.
The Waymo fleet was trained by a cohort of real human drivers who crisscrossed the city for several months, often late at night. The first time I saw one, I assumed it was a Google Street View car — but once I saw one without a driver in the front seat, I felt that there were man-made horrors beyond my comprehension.
This Waymo did feel like a human was at the wheel, even the way it took a turn too quickly or scraped a curb. The first ride went perfectly except in the parking lot. Poor car couldn’t figure out how to navigate around others, then later in the night picking us up, hilariously, it got stuck behind another Waymo and couldn’t drive around it in an empty parking lot. I felt impressed but also vindicated; Waymo probably wouldn’t kill me but also wasn’t smarter than human drivers.
I rode again not long afterward for science — just kidding, I was drunk. This time in SoMa the sketch factor was higher, so I was displeased the robocar stopped somewhere nearby instead of right in front of SF Oasis. I preferred an empty vehicle though because I was feeling barfy, and even though you can’t throw up anywhere, it’s easier to manage that alone than worrying your Lyft driver you’re going to mess up their car.
So far Waymo has only pulled up to empty curbs, but what if there were some unrelated altercation happening right where it pulled up? Such as a building fire, a violent crime, a police barricade or an individual in crisis? Do I step over bodies to get in my car?
Whatever — I threw myself inside and immediately stretched out across the backseat. The car is very strict about buckling but it did allow me to lay down so long as safety came first. Good thing too because I almost tossed my cookies; My nausea tempted me to use the “Pull Over” button, but I was more focused on breathing in cold air from the window.
Having now taken a Waymo several times I can say that most of my fears around its ability to drive have been quieted. But as I sat in the back seat of that silent, self-driving vehicle, a small part of me felt like I was giving in — contributing to a future that I’m not entirely on board with. And there are pressing concerns that linger even though they’re not strong enough to stop me from riding in one:
I still believe an accident during a Waymo ride would be extra terrifying. A more abstract paranoia is the idea that the car can be taken over remotely against my will, either by the authorities or a hacker. The idea of it driving me across the bridge or on a cliff road also still freaks me out.
So I want to say I won’t become a regular Waymo rider, but it feels inevitable. On nights when I’m too tired, tipsy, or just looking for the quiet solitude of an automated ride, I might find myself pulling up the app again. There’s a comfort in knowing that the car will follow all the rules, even if it sometimes fumbles in a parking lot or gets confused by another robot on the road.
How we get anywhere isn’t just about getting from point A to point B anymore; It’s about the quiet internal negotiations we make with ourselves about the future we’re buying into. And for now, Waymo is alright by me.
T. Von D. is a local museum worker and lesbian.
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