A third-generation San Franciscan, Gabe says he grew up playing with Nancy Pelosi’s kids and went to high school with Gavin Newsom, and now he The driver As they are Politician– It’s in his blood. He has been driving taxi cabs, Ubers or Lyfts since 1995, and even helped organize a taxi strike in the late 90s. He has also written about driving, riding, or riding a motorcycle for the past two decades. And if you think we’re being silly about car chase movie tropes, Gabe was a machine gunner for the US Marines during the first Gulf War — so he’s at least a veteran. He drives a gray Hyundai Ioniq 5 EV ( 9/10 , WIRED recommends ) and keeps his military service ribbon pinned to the dashboard. There’s also a 100-year-old ukulele jutting out from the center console.
The chase begins as planned: one of us hails a Waymo a few blocks away, drives it to the edge of the parking lot, then bolts to join the others in our pursuit vehicle. . “You know what you have to say, right?” Gabe says from the driver’s seat as we huddle up. Wired flashing
“come on! says Gabe. “Haven’t you ever seen the old movies? You jump in a cab and you say, “Chase that car!”
But Waymo is sitting there. For two agonizing minutes. We have plenty of time to stare at our dig — a vehicle shaped like a cartoon shark with a bunch of squirming doodads embedded in its skin — while it feeds us through its 29 cameras and five lidars. Stares, maps our shapes.
“It looks shy,” says Gabby.
“It’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing,” Wired says. “It knows it’s being tricked.”
Then, at 10:42 a.m., Waymo starts moving. Wired yells, “Chase that car!”
Less than a minute later, Gabby sighed. “I’m not used to driving so slowly.”
Before we go. Next, let’s get something out of the way: Getting around inside a self-driving car, especially for the first time, is an instantly cool experience. It starts like an amusement park ride—the empty gondola pulls up, you get in, you close the door. Then it becomes Opposite Amusement park rides. No sensation. No greed. No coordination. Just you, some soft black leather, the computer’s default sound, and—for now—a steering wheel, the ghost turning.
