Danny California

“Hi, it’s your Uber driver. Can I bring my girlfriend?”

I could never be accused of being over-reliant on technology. It was only upon arriving in California, with large distances and scant public transport, that I downloaded a ride hailing app.

I was buying a second-hand microwave some four miles from my flat and decided to walk over to the seller’s house with a suitcase in tow.

She, the seller, had just finished her Physics PhD and was moving out of the area – although not so far that I could understand why she wasn’t simply taking her microwave with the rest of her stuff.

Still, I thought it rude to ask and for $25 I wasn’t going to return home empty-handed on the very vague suspicion that she might be disingenuously handing over more than useably-damaged goods. People just aren’t like that here.

“Noticing my quixotic travel companion, she politely questioned my sanity in a round-a-bout sort of way. “Have you just got off a flight and are coming to pick up a microwave right away?”

“Nah. I arrived a few days ago. I was rather hoping the microwave would fit inside it and I could wheel it back”.

“Not much chance, but we can try”.

“I’ll leave the physics to you, I think. Will it go in the other way?” I added, immediately going against my exhortation of one second prior.

“No, it’s not going to fit I’m afraid”.

“Oh, that’s a shame. Never mind. I’ll get an Uber”.

Except that despite being in the heart of Silicon Valley, barely an Uber pool away from company headquarters, the app was telling me there was no service in my area.

It was a triumph for the Luddite in me, but I now found myself on a supremely quiet suburban street in the San Francisco Bay Area with a four-wheel suitcase and a 1350-watt microwave oven for company.

I tried downloading Lyft, but knew my phone wouldn’t have the space. I had had to delete the Smiths tracks I don’t listen to anymore in order to download Uber. I deleted all the other apps on my phone. Still no good. I traipsed through photographs of holidays with the wife, deleting as many as I could bear. Still not enough storage.

I tried Uber again. And again. And again. Finally, the app loaded. I put in my location and destination, and waited. I didn’t know what to do. The app is so fool-proof that it doesn’t come with instructions. Then one of the 2D cars on my screen turned around and started making its way towards me. 11 minutes, it said.

The phone rang whilst I was using the app, throwing me into such a panic that I declined the call. A few minutes later, Nuri, who turned out to be my driver, called back.

“Hi, it’s your Uber driver. Do you mind if I bring my girlfriend?”

“Not at all”, I replied, just about constraining myself before I added something weird, like “the more the merrier”.

Fortunately, Nuri was politeness itself, a stark contrast to the yellow cab I had pre-booked from Oakland airport for my arrival.

But I still couldn’t work out why his girlfriend was with him. Did they just happen to be somewhere and he was picking up a passenger en route to earn a little bit of money for the no-doubt exorbitantly-priced California date. No. It’s the sort of thing spendthrift me might do, but Nuri had some class about him.

So why was she there? There are more romantic drives in Northern California than Palo Alto. The Golden Gate Bridge, anyone? Maybe she was just keeping him company whilst he worked, I half-concluded. What a nice other half to have. Except she didn’t seem to be enjoying things much.

About half way through our journey, after Nuri and I had exchanged pleasantries, and the car became silent, she piped up. “Make some noise”.

It was a strange demand to make of a driver, one more associated with DJs or MCs trying to work a crowd, but Nuri got the gist, turning on the radio. An English host with a dwindling RP accent introduced the latest track. “Can you believe that was 1982?” I had remembered a friend from Rochester, New York, saying that every station had its token British disc jockey, but I didn’t expect it to be my first encounter with US radio.

I bade Nuri, who kindly helped me with the microwave while I unloaded the empty suitcase, goodnight, and hoped he was taking his love interest to bar, or a nocturnal building site.

Just somewhere with some noise.