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Memoirs of an Uber Driver, Vol. 3
I pick her up from the airport in the early afternoon. She’s bubbly, mid-fifties, professionally dressed. I help her put her suitcase in the trunk and when we get moving I ask where she’s coming from. “Las Vegas,” she tells me. “I was at a UFO convention.” I pause, not sure what to make of…
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Memoirs of an Uber Driver, Vol. 2
She’s in the middle of telling me a story about an Instacart employee who was friendly but had a naive quality about her. “You know, one of those young people without a lot of life experience,” she says, then asks, “What are you, about thirty-six?” “Thirty-three?” I tell her. “Oh wow, you’re the same age…
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Memoirs of an Uber Driver, Vol. 1
I pick him up just after midnight on a bridge overlooking the river. He’s far away from any businesses or residences, and he’s alone. One wonders what brought him out here tonight. He leans in through the window to check that this is his ride. He has a goatee, a wallet chain, and a shirt…