The tales of the Geneva Shore Report Uber driver.
Nobody knows. At least nobody but my riders know. That darned possum blew my Ubermobile up. It’s in the shop waiting to get a new engine. It’s not even worth a new engine, but I guess I could say that about most things in my life. Anyway, my Ubermobile is the car registered with the Uber home office. I’m not allowed to drive a different car without reregistering, insuring and doing all that other stuff to assure that my riders don’t get stiffed. Well, I’m on the road out here anyway. I’m driving this big Mercedes Limo and it’s so insured it’s silly. I borrowed the car while my poor one is down and out and going through auto rehab. The Benz purrs like a kitten and draws my riders in like the warm leather cocoon it was built to be. I think the left front tire costs more than my Ubermobile is worth.
But I’m afraid of getting turned in. My first rider didn’t notice, on my run from a back Lake Geneva neighborhood to Thumb’s Up because he was too drunk to notice. He gave me a twenty to wait for him to come out. I waited an hour and then moved on. Please! I picked up three young ladies at Fat Cat’s before midnight and drove them to Fontana. They loved the car. There’s no chance they will turn me in. The drunk won’t remember anything. The only mistake I made in touring them in my own personal car, which they knew it had to be, was that when they asked me if I was wealthy I said yes.
You know, I’m not that old and I’m single and not that bad looking. I thought, what the hell. The company that owns the Benz could care less who claims ownership. The big boss would back me if it came to that. I’ll never claim to be wealthy again though, not while driving for Uber. They loved me, but then got to where they were going only to inform me that it was really neat to ride in such a car and with a wealthy man driving around just for fun…and it was really great not to have to tip. I sit here, on the dark side of the lake, waiting while I write this, wondering if I was born on the dark (or the stupid) side of the moon.