My first night of driving Uber was on Sunday June 2--the last and most festive day of Utah Pride. My lifelong friend Steve had recruited me to try Ubering for a promotion that would give him a bonus. My winter part time gigs of lift operating at Deer Vally and being reminded that I really don't like substitute teaching at the junior high level had all ended, so a summer job of Uber driving seemed worth doing.
As I headed out that evening for a few hours I found that most of my passengers were car fulls of young revelers headed out to an evening of gay bar hopping. I had some fun conversations. "I'm a recently out gay man and have never been to Pride." I got lots of return love and support. I didn't go to any gay bars, but I felt like I was participating in Pride in my own little way--shuttling others in safety to and from bars--and gay bars to boot (who knew Salt Lake had so many!)
In the ensuing months, I have enjoyed going out a few evenings a week and driving. I've explored all corners of Salt Lake Valley and beyond and have met some wonderful and interesting people in the process. Early on, I twice had supportive conversations that lingered at the drop of point with two other recently divorced fathers, who, like I had been the year before, were now dealing with the frustration and sadness of being separated from their teenage sons. I've retraced my path to return phones left on the back seat. I've consoled a woman who had recently lost her mother, I've delivered late night limited speakers of English (mostly Spanish) but also refugees from Africa (surprised that I knew where Rwanda was), the Middle East and Asia to and from night shifts in large warehouses on the west side and service jobs on the east side.
I didn't drive Uber much in December. Mid-month I was hit with a weird bout of some undiagnosed malady that left me shivering and aching in St. Mark's hospital for a few days. It's taken a few weeks to finally feel close to normal again. And so, I decided to drive again, on New Year's Eve. There was promise of extra earnings and I had no other place to be.
I started about 6:00 and all of the early riders were happy and pleasant. I didn't plan to drive after midnight for fear of what they may become. Some were heading home from work, some from buying party refreshments and some going to early parties. I picked up one man in West Jordan. "Headed any place fun?" I asked. "To a friend's [in Sandy]. He called and neither of us had plans so I said I had an unopened bottle of Christmas whiskey and some fireworks, so we are now partying." Along the way we chatted.
Me: "I grew up in Logan"
Him: "Know any Wallises?"
"Yes, a friend Scott."
"How about a dentist Jerry Wallis--He's my grandpa."
"Sure I know who he is. He was a friend of my dad's.
"He's 93 and sells fly fishing equipment at Al's Sporting Goods."
"I know Al's. Shopped there since I was a kid"
"Yeah we own a hunting lodge in Bear Lake with its owner Chris Larsen"
"I went to school with his older brother Jeff.:
Small world.
Two bedazzled twenty something social media wannabes rode from central Salt Lake City to a party in Mill Creek. They sat in the back. In the rear-view mirror, I could see the glow of their phone screens on their faces as they mouthed words to songs as they filmed and then edited snippets which I heard were to be posted on Tic Toc. I jokingly told them that there was an extra fee for filming in Ubers and they fell for it. Should have collected an extra $5, but I told them I was just kidding. Don't know if I got a tip from them.
After dropping off the lip singing influencers, I took a pit stop at my home in South Salt Lake. There I added a Be Real post (so the kids can see I'm up and well) to document the midpoint of the evening. I then pulled out my bag of Trader Joe's snacks (chocolate cinnamon bears and maple flavored kettle corn) and headed out. Near downtown I took an only Spanish speaking young man on a two-stop run to get cash from a friend and then two cases of bottled water from 7-Eleven. Maria, who requested the ride, sent a voice and text message telling me what her friend needed to do. Initially I thought I would need to call Will or Sarah to interpret the 7-Eleven shopping instructions for my rider, but then I hit that translate button on the Uber app and he could read in Spanish what he needed to do.
Dropped two men off for an evening of bowling and beer.
Picked up four twentysomethings in West Valley for a ride to a downtown concert venue. While driving my friend Steve called. Earlier in the day he had texted me wanting to stay the night after he attended a family party in Bountiful. I said sure. I texted him to let him know that whenever he was done to text me back and I would head home and meet him. He called instead at about 11:15.
"Where are you."
"Headed downtown for a dropoff. Then I can head for home."
"Meet me at this address---"
"What's that?" I asked.
"A Gay Bar" he said excitedly (Steve came out decades before me. He has assumed the role of trying to help me navigate gay life. Sometimes his help is appreciated)
I think. I've been driving Uber for over five hours. This was not part of my plan. I've yet to go to a gay bar. I have no desire to go to a gay bar. I really don't like the limited amounts of alcohol I've tried in the past year. I just want to go home.
"I have no interest in going to a Gay Bar tonight" I said
Steve didn't push it. He just texted me the address if I wanted to meet him there.
The four passengers overheard my side of the conversation and thought I should go have fun. I explained that I was recently out as gay and had been an alcohol abstaining Mormon for decades and was not quite ready for a gay, or any bar, on New Years Eve. They understood. They were also interested in the back story of why I would be thinking of going to a gay bar for the first time at such an old age. I've had similar conversations with others. It usually starts with: "I'm driving Uber now as a part time gig after retiring early from BYU." Occasionally that leads to: "Why early?" Which leads me to: "It was not a good place mentally for a closeted gay man." Which then has led to some very interesting Uber conversations. Most of which find me rolling along with kind souls who offer understanding and support.
I dropped this nice group off west of Gateway. My next pickup was near the Delta Center. Close by but road closures and traffic congestion made for a complicated pick up. I finally called them and we found a better pick-up place. They were a young couple from Texas in town for a convention of university Catholics that started at the Delta Center in the morning. They have created a Catholic dating app that puts people into real time conversations. They were presenting the app to college Catholics in downtown Salt Lake City on New Years Day.
As I was maneuvering to the meeting point, I remember thinking that all of a sudden Salt Lake was feeling like Chicago or New York with steam rising out through the manhole covers. As I headed south on 300 West, the steam persisted to float up around my car. Then a helpful man hanging out from his slowed down jeep pointed at my car and mouthed something like; "there's a fire!"
Duh! It's not the manholes. It my nine-and-a half-year-old Subaru with nearly 200,00 miles! I pulled over. The Texan and I got out. Steaming it was. I popped the hood. He soon noticed the radiator rubber pipe had split wide open--perhaps with an unheard bang. Radiator fluid covered much of the hot engine and that was the cause of the steam. They were still a few miles from their hotel. I thought to drive on, but they had no desire to get in my steam wagon so we cancelled their ride and another Uber came for them. He suggested it might not be wise to drive. That seemed right to me, so I called a few tow trucks at 11:30 PM on New Years Eve. No luck. Obviously.
I then thought to park my car in the back of the Street Taco place where I had pulled over and call Steve at the bar for a ride, I hated to interrupt his revelry. He does like his cocktails. He introduced me to my first Cosmopolitan last year (expensive fruit juice!).
Then Steve called me. He couldn't find his wallet and he didn't have the $5 cover to enter the bar. He wouldn't be staying at my place and was now heading home to Logan to see where his wallet was. I told him my dilemma and he offered to come get me. By then the steam had subsided, and I decided to chance it and drive slowly to my place which is located just behind Mark Miller Midtown Subaru where I can get it fixed Thursday. I stopped halfway home for the engine to cool down when the steam started up again and then drove the second stretch with no incident other than a little more steam. Got home just in time to see the ball drop.
And so my year ends. 2024, like all years, has had its highs and lows. Sadly, some days the lows seem to be winning, both in South Salt Lake and worldwide. But on we go: taking our medicine, getting cars serviced, working new jobs; and decrying genocide and war, resisting authoritarianism and seeking to overcome political craziness. Here's to a happier, healthier, kinder and more peaceful 2025.
