“It’s ridiculous,” he huffed, “You’d think in this day and age you’d be able to get on the internet almost anywhere but especially in a big city.”
We are both on the same network but my iPhone was having no trouble at all.
“It’s Silicon Valley. Maybe you just have the wrong phone?” I joked.
The LSH was not amused. Luckily, I am an IT expert and so on the penultimate day of our holiday I googled how to fix the problem.
In the meantime small fierce women at bus stops were there to help us. All women in San Francisco appear to be short, forceful and opinionated. Americans in general are so loud but San Franciscans come with some added quirks. They like to tell you about Harry and Megan living in Santa Barbara, are extremely disappointed when you say you have no opinion on it and when you say, ‘Thank you,’ their reply is always, ‘YES.’
Once we got the hang of it, though, riding the buses was much easier. It feels as though you are going round in circles because streets are exceptionally long. You can start on one bus, getting on at Sutter, travel for a mile. Get off and catch the next one from a stop you turned right to get, travel another 3 miles and get off at Sutter.
“They only go in straight lines. It’s very confusing,” I complained, “It feels as though we are going around in circles.”
“We are,” replied the LSH, who was grumpy because of his phone signal.
Once it was fixed, however, he realised that the reason they travel in straight lines is because they are trams; early electric vehicles that get their power from overhead wires.
The modern electric vehicles make the whole of San Francisco sound like the set of Logan’s Run, which although the cars on that film were solar powered, the film makers accidentally captured the noise perfectly. San Franciscans have completely embraced the electric car and the whole city thrums with the sound of them. They even have driverless electric Ubers.
As you walk around you start to get used to empty driver’s seats. The little white Waymos begin to have a personality of their own. Sensors spinning on the top and sides, you sense their cautious anxiety, even though you know they’ve been programmed by a laid back dope-head in an air conditioned office just outside San Jose.
One bus stop woman told us that she’d seen one with a child in the front passenger seat. “Now, who would think that was a good idea?” she shouted.
Anyone who hasn’t read the Passengers by John Marrs who is under 40 I suspect. (Do read the Passengers - it’s a brilliant novel). I could certainly see the appeal of never having to do the school run, or drop off for ballet classes again. Just pop them in a Waymo on their own and they don’t even have to talk to strangers.
She also told us a funny story about them. Apparently, they live in the posh end of town. They have a parking lot where they sit and wait to get your buzz from the app. Never turning off. Awake all night. Waiting. No wonder they’re anxious. Anyway, residents of the expensive condos that neighbour the parking lot have been complaining that the Waymos have been disturbing their sleep. The company in Mountain View explained the problem. The poor little things are not coming back home after an hard day at work and partying all night long but instead they’re getting confused. They are programmed to beep to avoid low speed crashes and when they get too closely packed together these sensors are activated. They’re a bit like the sea lions, who honk all night and bash necks if they get too close.
We were not brave enough to try a Waymo (I’ve read the Passengers and I think too much) but we did go back in time and ride the trolleys, which require a strong man to operate, engaging and disengaging them from the cables with a foot pedal and pulling the brake on with a hand lever and another to stand at the back and make sure no one falls off. Such fun! It appears that we are not adverse to danger, only we prefer the old fashioned kind.
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