My Life-Changing Lyft Driver Experience

As a freelance photographer, I’m always looking for another side hustle to get me through the slow times, and I figured I’d give Lyft driving a shot. There was a 3-day stretch coming up that I was going to dedicate to my new endeavor. I got all my driver credentials set up, and I was ready to go.

I’m not particularly a fan of driving, and I was super nervous to start. You see, they give you zero training, and you have to figure everything out as you go. The app is kind of complicated, and I was afraid of trying to figure everything out as I navigated city traffic, so I drove out to the suburbs to try it out for the first time.

I activated the app and got my first pickup request. I messed it up, but told the guy he was my very first rider. “First one today?”, he asked. No, first one ever. Anyway, I got him to his destination, despite navigation telling me a wacky way to go. I think he felt sorry for me as he peeled off a couple dollars to give me as a tip.

The day didn’t get a whole lot better as it went along. I made a lot of mistakes, but people were generally understanding and nice. After I reached my self-imposed goal of 10 rides, I called it a day. Phew.

I awoke the next day pretty much dreading what was ahead of me—another day of driving. I sat in my car and said a prayer (something I don’t do very often) before I pulled out of my garage.

It was cold and rainy, just like the day before, so there was no problem getting riders—one right after another. I started in the city, where there are typically lots of short trips, and I figured I could bang out 10 rides super easy that way.

During busy times, there is “surge pricing”, and I timed my day so as to be out during the evening rush. I only had a few rides left, when I got “dinged” near a location I was quite familiar with.

For some reason, the address didn’t make sense to me (no idea why, it was very basic), so I called the customer and he told me where he was. It took me quite a while to turn around in the traffic and to get where I needed to be, and then I sat there and waited. No sight of the guy.

I called again and there was no answer. The clock was ticking down, and there were seconds left. It had been at least 10 minutes since I was in the vicinity of this guy, and unable to connect.

As the clock ticked down 5 4 3 2….I saw a guy approach my car, and I hit the pickup button the instant before the ride was cancelled.

The frail guy was completely soaked from standing in the rain all this time. He was carrying something. It was a small dog. He had a wet and shivering poodle cradled in his arms.

It was a comedy of errors that made us unable to connect. But it was all me—all my mistakes. From not understanding the address, to now facing in the wrong direction, and now having to turn around in traffic yet again, making it that much more expensive for this poor guy. I had completely misunderstood where he said he was during that first call.

I felt awful.

He seemed a little irritated when he got in the car, but not as much as most people would have been, considering it was all my fault that he stood out in the cold rain for 10 minutes waiting for me. He said his phone battery had died, hence me not able to get through to him the second time.

This guy was clearly having a bad day, and I just made it a lot worse.

His destination was only about a mile away, but it was going to take me at least 10 minutes to turn around and get headed in the right direction. And of course this poor sap is now paying surge pricing for my mistake. Ugh.

He gets settled in and warmed up a bit, and I ask him about the dog. He tells me how he just came from the vet, and was going to have to put the dog down. The poor pup looked old and sick and ready to go. He was going to have one more night with his beloved friend, and bring him back the next day.

Heartbreaking.

He talked about how much joy the dog brought to him over the years, and how he inherited the dog from a deceased relative, and how he didn’t really want a dog, and how he now could not imagine life without him, and how the dog was the best thing ever, and he’s so glad things worked out how they did.

I felt so sad for him. I thought of my dog. We talked more about dogs.

Now we were finally turned around in the right direction, but still stuck in traffic that was crawling. I was feeling terrible about everything, and then even worse, considering the dog.

But that’s not all. Turns out the guy was dying too.

I told him how he didn’t look like his picture on the app. He said it’s because he lost forty pounds, since he has cancer. Terminal cancer.

He told me how 5 months earlier, at 40 years old, he had something on his back checked out—something that had been there a long time—and it was melanoma. He said he had about 6 months to live, at the most.

He talked about what a “positive experience” it was—like, in a really joyful way. He talked about how all the things that were important or worrisome to him before were no longer important—like money troubles, or things not going his way, or day-to-day work stress.

Or having to stand out in the rain for 10 minutes with his dying dog and a dead cell phone battery.

He talked about how much his friends have surrounded him with love, and how he wants to spend every minute he has left with his loved ones. He talked a lot about love, and how it’s the most important thing of all.

He said people ask him if he wants to take one last exotic vacation, but he does not. He wants to be here, in Chicago, with his friends.

We talked about his treatment, and about the things that are happening to his body as the cancer spreads. He talked about the searing pain, and the medications used to treat it. He didn’t have insurance when he was first diagnosed, but was able to get Obamacare, gratefully.

I told him my father died of melanoma. He asked, prefacing with “If it’s not too personal to ask”, if my father experienced a lot of pain toward the end.

I asked him what it was like to know you are going to die soon. He was so lovely, and just talked more about how blessed he is, and how he is surrounded by so much love, and how he is beyond grateful for all the lessons he’s learned as a result of all this.

We were getting closer to his place. He apologized for earlier, if he was “short” with me when he got in the car. OMG, are you freaking kidding me? I will spend the rest of my life feeling awful about leaving this guy standing in the rain with his dog, and he was apologizing to me.

Whatever was said before I dropped him off, I don’t even remember. I thanked him. I said goodbye to his dog. I told him he changed my life just then. I don’t know, there was nothing left to say but thank you and goodbye and I’m sorry.

He got out of the car.

I was going to pull over for a bit to process it all, but the damn app dinged right away. I was in shock, and on auto-pilot. I picked up some chick who was all snippy because I wasn’t driving fast enough, and she was going to be late for her fucking yoga class.

After that I pulled over and turned off the app. I was remorseful and regretted not offering to do more for him. I should have given him my number and offered to pick him up and bring him anywhere he wanted—to the doctor, or wherever—not as a Lyft driver, but as a friend.

I should have done more.

This all happened about a year ago, so surely he is dead by now, and I will never forget him. I still feel bad about everything I put him through that day. But you know what? Even though his fare was astronomical due to my stupidity, he still tipped me five bucks through the app, I found out later that night.

This guy was something special, and he told me everything any of us need to know.

It’s all about love, and gratitude. I suppose we all know that, but this guy really lived it and showed it in a way that I have never experienced before. He was joyous, despite, and because of, his dire circumstances.

I think my prayer really was answered that day. I didn’t know what I needed, but somebody up there did.

And that was the end of my Lyft career.