It took me a while to realize that you’re most likely blind. Every time you stopped in the middle of an empty road or slid across the highway I thought you were just dozing off or something, but you were probably guessing where the road was the whole entire time.
It was like being driven by a mosquito.
What really surprised me was that you didn’t have navigation. That would be like me not having a pencil. What if I didn’t know my way home? You’d still be driving me around with your eyes closed. And did it not occur to you that your nose whistle needed to be tended to before you got in a car with someone? What was in there by the way? A second, knottier beard? A piece of old twine? An actual whistle? It was almost like you wanted me to hear it.
Also, why was your car covered in a layer of black dust? Did you vacuum it and then accidentally shake the bag out all over the back seat? I had to send my pants to the dry cleaners.
And then, remember when you asked me if I live alone? Isn’t there an uber handbook?
More importantly, why did you insist on keeping your blinker on the whole ride? We never even turned.
I’m hoping you’ll read this and realize you don’t know how to operate a motor vehicle and pull over, exactly the way you did on the West Side Highway.
Also, when you reached your arm around the back of your seat, I took a picture of your fingernails. You need to cut them.
In closing, I’d just like to say I know how hard it must have been for you, a blind person, to get a job as a professional driver. That’s why I gave you five stars.