Gabe, a third-generation San Franciscan, says he grew up playing with Nancy Pelosi’s kids and went to high school with Gavin Newsom, and now he’s a driver the way they are politicians—It’s in his blood. He’s been operating taxis, Ubers, or Lyfts since 1995, and even helped organize a taxi workers’ strike in the late ’90s. He’s also written about driving, ride-sharing, and motorcycling for the past two decades. And if you think we’re being silly with car chase movie tropes, Gabe was a machine gunner in the US Marines during the first Gulf War, so at least he’s ex-military. He drives a gray Hyundai Ioniq 5 EV (9/10, WIRED recommends) and keeps his military service ribbons taped to the dashboard. There’s also a 100-year-old ukulele sticking out of the center console.
The chase begins as planned: one of us stops a Waymo a few blocks away, drives it to the edge of the parking lot, and then runs out to join the others in our chase vehicle. “You know what you have to say, right?” Gabe says from the driver’s seat as we rush to buckle up. WIRING flashes.
“Come on!” Gabe says. “Have you never seen old movies? You get in the taxi and say, “Follow that car!”
But the Waymo just sits there. For two agonizing minutes. We have plenty of time to awkwardly stare at our prey, a vehicle whose shape resembles a cartoon shark with a bunch of spinning ornaments implanted in its skin, as it watches us through its 29 cameras and five lidars, mapping our contours.
“He seems shy,” Gabe says.
“It’s a shame. It is very embarrassing,” says WIRED. “He knows he’s being tricked.”
Then, at 10:42 a.m., Waymo starts moving. WIRED yells, “Follow that car!”
Less than a minute later, Gabe sighs. “I’m not used to driving so slowly.”
before we go Further, let’s leave something aside: traveling inside an autonomous vehicle, especially for the first time, is an immediately great experience. It starts like an amusement park ride: the empty gondola sneaks up, you get in and close the door. Then it becomes the opposite of an attraction in an amusement park. Without emotions. No lurches. Noiseless. Just you, some soft black leather, a default computer voice, and, for now, a steering wheel that spins ghostly from side to side.