Getting My Steps in with Waymo

The driverless car is safe, but stupid.

(Shutterstock)

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For a year or so in San Francisco, I’ve been seeing weird vehicles moving through the streets. White, with spinning lights on top and cameras sprouting in all directions, they look like rolling ice chests for giant aliens.

But no! These are the fabled “driverless cars” that are going to whisk us effortlessly everywhere in the future, fueled by stardust and emitting only self-congratulatory fumes of pride.

In other people’s cars, I’m a trusting passenger. And as a driver, I don’t like navigating in new cities, so for a recent trip to Phoenix I decided to try Waymo. I would be arriving at Sky Harbor Airport with an unusually heavy suitcase and no clue where my hotel was: What could possibly go wrong?

App Apprehension

Determined to make things go smoothly, I downloaded the Waymo app well in advance (that is to say, at my local airport right before takeoff). Just to open the app, I had to remember my Google password (and by “remember” I mean go through the seventeen-and-a-half steps to get a new Google password), and then labor through creating a Waymo account.

Once I’d gotten into the app, it asked whether I wanted the car unlocked when I reached it. I may be a novice at driverless riding, but I gave that a thumbs up. It seemed a good idea that the doors be opened, so that I could get in. No fool I!

Also, I was asked to select between light and dark (what, the car color? Weren’t they all white?), and my preferred source for music. I had to choose between sound from my phone or letting the car select the acoustic vibe. My actual preference, “silence,” was not available.

Having sort of settled all that, I relaxed into my plane seat, glad to leave the steering and navigation to the pilots up front. I just wouldn’t feel safe without them.

Are You My Waymo?

Arriving at Phoenix Sky Harbor, I thought about summoning a car immediately, but I kept my phone in my pocket. I didn’t want to send for my ride until I had claimed my luggage and was standing at the correct spot for pickup. What was I worried about, keeping the driver waiting?

My checked suitcase was heavy, and I had a bulky carry-on and a weak back. So I got a trolley ($7, welcome to Phoenix!), and trundled it out the door, wondering which way to go. Signs pointed different ways toward pickups for buses, courtesy vehicles, and ride-shares. Was Waymo considered ride-sharing, even though I wouldn’t be sharing it with anyone, even a driver?

With no guidance available IRL, I consulted my app. To my delight, it gave me my choice of two places I could be picked up! I selected the closer one, and rolled my trolly toward it, hope growing.

Once on the correct curb, I ordered a ride to my destination, a romantic-sounding place I’d never stayed before. I had no idea how far away the Hermosa Inn was from Sky Harbor, but the app wasn’t daunted: It said my car was nearby and would pick me up in 10 minutes. All good, I thought.

But how would I know which weird white vehicle was for me? In the constant swish and rush of vehicles arriving, stopping, loading people, and taking off again, I could rule out most of them because they had drivers. But about one in twenty of the cars was an ice chest, and they all looked identical: white with little lit-up crowns on top.

One paused in front of me, but as I struggled toward it, lugging my cart, it pulled away. Tease! A few minutes later there was another one, with its crown flashing purple, but other people got there first and hopped in.

Then I realized the domes could be different colors! A swift check of my app showed that I could select one of four jewel tones and change my car’s crown. The car was not yet here, and no one was in it, yet I could select its décor!

I remotely ordered my car, wherever it was, to beam me up in teal.

Seconds later, a teal-topped vehicle pulled up 100 feet away, and once again I threaded my clunky metal cart through the crowd as fast as I could, afraid that my ride might leave without me. Before I could reach it, a hip young couple opened the trunk (how?) and started loading their luggage. I said, “How do you know this is yours?”

“I think it’s ours,” the guy said, misunderstanding my question.

“I’m sure it is,” I confirmed. “But how do you know?”

He pointed up top to the flashing dome – his dome had “BR” in shining white capitals against the colored background. How cool! Maybe my car would have my initials on it, too! The hip young couple Waymoed away into their glamorous, carefree Phoenix evening, and I shuffled backwards into the crowd, trying not to bump anyone with my trolley.

I just avoided scraping the shins of a tall, white-haired lady. She smiled tolerantly, and I noticed she was pulling a tidy, rolling case like a flight attendant’s bag, which made her seem competent. Hoping for advice, I asked if she were waiting for a driverless vehicle.

She wasn’t, but she seemed enthusiastic about my doing so. “It’ll be fun!” she said, as if reassuring me.

Did I seem nervous? “I’m not nervous,” I said.

“Don’t be afraid!” she said.

“I’m not afraid,” I said. (Was I afraid?)

“Well, It’s OK to be a little bit afraid,” she said. “Some weird things have happened.”

I was afraid.

But then I spotted a Waymo with a teal top, and GI on the crown (not my initials, but the first two letters of my name, no doubt a cunning security measure to prevent would-be assassins from knowing my actual initials). It stopped at the far end of the pickup zone, so one more time I maneuvered past many people with my lethal little cart.

Sure enough, no one else was getting in. And the doors unlocked as I approached!

So then I was almost on my way in my Waymo, but I need a driver to lift my suitcase. The main reason I get an Uber or a taxi is so that a person with good upper-body definition will heft my luggage for me. Too shy to ask a stranger for help, I took a breath, bent my knees, and heaved my bag off the trolley and shoved it onto the back seat. There was no damage to the vinyl but likely repercussions to my back for the rest of my vacation.

That done, I climbed into the front, where I looked toward the driver’s area, expectantly. No one was there (duh!), but a voice from the center console spoke, and my name appeared on the screen. At last, at least, I was in the right car.

Going with the Waymo Flow

Click-click-click-click-click, went the little red triangle of the hazard lights. Who puts their hazards on when they pull over to the curb? Nobody. And that’s who was driving!

Although I hadn’t chosen any music on the app (I’d wanted silence, remember?), sound was emanating from the speakers: the most ostentatiously mellow music that I’ve ever heard. Drippy little honey-notes came dropping slow, like spa music on Quaaludes. It was practically screaming at me to relax.

Unable to turn it off, I gritted my teeth and touched the big blue button on the console that said “Start ride.”

We (“we” being the car and I) eased away from the curb and joined the slow-moving lane of traffic departing the airport. There was nothing remarkable about the way the car travelled — except that the steering wheel moved! I hadn’t expected that; I’d have thought that the wheels could turn without that shaft being involved. I was tempted to touch the wheel, to see if it would let me steer, but as I leaned towards it, I saw a warning:

“Please keep your hands off the wheel.

The Waymo Driver is in control at all times.”

‘Driver’ was capitalized, like the name of a person.

Once we left the terminal, the late-afternoon sun sent hot, horizontal rays glaring into my eyes. It was great that Waymo Driver didn’t need to see, but couldn’t cameras be blinded by the sun, too? It didn’t bear thinking about, so I looked out the window.

I saw a stop sign, and expected us to halt, but the car kept going at the same speed; only as we swished by it did I realize that the sign wasn’t for us: it was angled to face a small feeder road. Whew! “OK, Waymo,” I said. “You’re doing all right here!”

Waymo Driver ignored my compliment but told me to put my seatbelt on. The mysterious, feminine voice from the console spoke up again. “Riding in the vehicle might seem futuristic,” she said — it certainly did! — but, she advised me, as if she were the only adult in the room, “remember to put your seatbelt on.”

I appreciated the reminder. I also needed her reminder to relax and enjoy the ride. It’s the same kind of thing they say on an airplane to reassure plane passengers that they aren’t going to die.

Trying to tune out the stupid soothing soundtrack, I looked out the window. Ahead of us was another rolling ice chest: I was glad to note that mine stayed a respectful distance away from its sibling. In general, the car drove well, keeping a space-bubble between us and the other vehicles. At one point, we passed a bus, and to my eye, it was pretty close, but I was in the passenger seat (a.k.a. “death seat”), so it was hard to judge. On the whole I felt perfectly safe.

Outside the car there were street signs, traffic lights, a blue sky beyond — nothing worth looking at — and yet seeing it from a car with no driver made it interesting. There was a curb we were not running into! There was a stop sign we stopped for! A pedestrian we didn’t hit!

Getting There, Almost

After about 20 minutes, the car told me that we were getting close to my destination, but there was no sign of the resort. Roads in Phoenix tend to be straight and flat and to stretch to the horizon. We were on just such a straight, narrow, flat road in the desert when the car stopped. Game over.

Waymo told me to be sure to take all my belongings, because the doors would lock once I had left the car. Startled, I said, “This isn’t right. I’m going to the hotel.”

The car told me to be sure to take all my belongings, because the doors would lock once I had left the car.

“I’m not getting out here,” I argued. I could see no buildings. The voice told me to be sure to take my belongings, because the doors would lock once I had left the car.

Glaring at the console, I pressed the “Get help” button. After a minute, it placed the call. It was like calling any customer service center, in that it started with a low-quality announcement that the call might be recorded for quality assurance. Fine with me; I wanted to be assured of a little quality. I also wanted the car to take me to my destination.

I explained to the young woman who answered the call – I’ll call her Blithe – that the car had stopped on an empty road and all I could see were cacti.

She informed me that the car had arrived at my destination. I assured her that it was not my destination, that I was checking in to a rather nice inn, one that I was sure had buildings. Could Blithe change the destination on the trip to take me to, say, the reception area, rather than that godforsaken stretch of highway?

Blithe said, “We don’t know where the reception is, either.”

I got mad. I think I actually used the phrase, “That’s not good enough.”

Blithe put me on hold.

During the exceedingly long wait, I remembered the name of the hotel’s restaurant, which might be close to reception. I typed in “Lon’s,” and the car obediently moved forward.

It drove a quarter mile and then turned right. It drove a half mile or so and then turned right. It drove another half mile or so and then turned right. It then drove about a quarter mile, completing a square and returning to exactly the spot it had taken me earlier, where it stopped. The car again told me to be sure to take all my belongings, because the doors would lock once I had left the car.

When Blithe came back on the line, I told her a mite testily that the car still was trying to abandon me in the middle of a cactus wasteland. As we spoke, the car executed one more trip around the deserted stretch of desert. And then, as we again made the fourth turn, I spotted a sign pointing to a turnoff for the Hermosa Inn.

I jabbed at the screen to stop the car. Clearly, this spot was as close as I was going to get, so I got out (I was reminded once again, and remembered, to take my personal belongings with me). The doors locked, and my first Waymo slithered silently away.

With my laptop and book-laden carry-on thrown over one shoulder, I dragged my suitcase down the road. It was a long trudge back to the driveway, but at the gates I was greeted by a burly, cheerful doorman, the kind of guy who would make an excellent driver. He relieved me of my bags and sympathized about my walk.

I was happy to have my bags carried and even happier to come into the cool air and warm welcome of the lobby. Another kind, helpful human being, Tami, greeted me. I mentioned that I hadn’t been able to get into in the parking area, and she, misunderstanding, said, “You should have gotten one of those driverless cars!”

I explained that that had been my first mistake.

Tami smiled wryly and gestured outside to the area where cars (cars with drivers) pulled in; there was plenty of parking and a generous circular driveway around a small fountain. “Yeah, they used to come in here, and we’d all see them and just go ‘Aauugh!’ You should have seen them trying to navigate that fountain with no driver!”

Apparently, the vehicles that flawlessly execute complex roundabouts and parallel parking on city streets can’t cope with a one-way circle. The driverless cars would get stuck, and Waymo had to send a (yes) human being out to liberate their vehicles and return them to safety. And that’s why, now, Waymo cars cower outside the gates, too fearful to come in.

But I had no more need of a car; I walked happily through the gentle paths of the Hermosa grounds. A big strong human being delivered my suitcase, and he spoke to me, person-to-person, face-to-face, the way humans were meant to.

Ensconced in mi casita, I lit a fire, made a drink, and took aspirin. Was the backache from hauling my luggage worth the fun and convenience of not having to drive?

Slipping into a warm bath, I decided that it probably was. My back would be better the next day, and I was looking forward to exploring the green-gray splendor of the Desert Botanical Garden. To get there, I might try going driver-free again, but next time, I’d make sure that Waymo Driver would take me all the way to my destination.

Meanwhile, at least I’d gotten my steps in.

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Comments

  1. Delightful!

    Plus, I learned quite a bit about navigating a Waymo. So I may give it a try!

  2. With GI’s knowledge and light-heartedness now in my data bank, ima try one of these funky rover robots…after checking the landing bay of my destination.

  3. Interesting and arresting article, thanks. These futuristic cabs can also be a waymotional journey too! As with my personal experience of website AI [more than useless until you insist on speaking to an Agent] machines have plenty of time and effort to waste – in the future.
    Meanwhile as an aside for anyone who watches TV series – here in the UK Channel 4 has an excellent one called Humans. It is very thought provoking. I’m not aware that the UK has implemented brainless cabs yet; still just testing. I assume that driverless cabs, as described, with attainable destinations will be very useful for those who do not trust a human driver for whatever reason.

  4. Yikes, indeed! A cautionary tale well told. I learned a lot. I will likely be in LA later this year so would have access to Waymo’s services were I so inclined. I was not so inclined before reading this article and now I am even less inclined. I send you my appreciation, Ms. Kendall. Thank you.

  5. Spooky…and hilarious! If this is the future of city transportation, transport me back to the present, or maybe even the past. I’ll wait until they perfect the ride, complete with a surly AI cabbie who can read a map and improvise around the obstacles we call real life. Gillian Kendall tells the story with wit and verve, and it was fun riding along with her!

  6. Ms. Kendall is obviously a seasoned and resourceful traveler, who managed to turn her Waymo nightmare into an hilarious and scary riff on driverless cars, technological hubris, AI, online customer service, and MUSAK 3.0. Talk about turning autonomous lemons into lemonade! Brilliant writing! I was laughing out loud throughout, between worrying about our intrepid reporter!

  7. Oh my goodness, how terrifying and maddening at the same time! Good thing you are such a seasoned traveler and that is far from the worst thing that’s ever happened to you on a trip! I would never try Waymo again, and in fact I’ll never try it the first time!
    I felt anxious and amused while reading it. It was one of those adventures that is hilarious in retrospect!

  8. Thanks for your swift and supportive response, Mr. McGowan!
    I’m so glad I hadn’t read that article you mentioned (about the person getting stuck in a driverless car going in circles and not stopping) before I took my ride. If I’d seen that, or heard about some of the other problems, I might not have done it. But yes, as you suggested, the Hermosa Inn was terrific, and once my back was better I was ready again for the next adventure. Let me know about yours.

  9. YIKES, Ms. Kendall! Although this worked out for you in the end here, what a harrowing, stressful experience it was after just dealing with the flight and airport otherwise. Everything has just come down to username, password for this, that and the other hell of never-ending apps. Then the dreaded red sentence roadblocks coming up to make it even more torturous.

    After going through all of the frustration of finally getting the Waymo ‘cab’ and breathing a sigh of relief after getting your luggage in, and the car on its way to the hotel, it just stops on a dark desert highway where you have to wonder if you’ll be left stranded. It’s good you remembered the name of the hotel restaurant, and a person even answered (I’m surprised) and you finally got there.

    It sounds like the hotel was really nice, making the nightmare of getting there worth it. The one-way circle problem reminded me of a story earlier this month of an attorney in New York (I think) trapped in a driverless car that went around in circles for several dizzying, terrifying minutes before finally stopping.

    Hopefully your 2nd experience with Waymo went better. The technology obviously needs a lot of perfecting. If you got stuck in a situation of terrible heat (notorious in AZ.) you could die, so it’s potentially extremely serious. I’d take a traditional taxi if available, or an Uber or Lyft. NO thank you on driverless vehicles!

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