AROUND TOWN

I spent my Valentine’s Day visiting my grandson Cooper in Illinois. As a Lala (my grandma name), I enjoy being able to spend time with him and then leaving the mess behind for his parents to clean up.

Since Cooper’s nap was about the time I needed to head out for the airport, my daughter Sydney decided to call an Uber for me. I ref lected back to my first Uber ride in T u l s a in May 2022 and laughed out loud.

I was going to the BOK Center to receive my State Honorary FFA Degree and Sydney was going with me. She called an Uber so I wouldn’t have to park downtown and I was thankful. Well, until the Uber driver pulled up in a red 2002 Honda Civic that was backfiring to deliver us to the awards assembly. We had a good laugh over it and I’ve never forgotten it–especially the people who were looking at us as we got out in our evening attire.

Sydney then told me she had a surprise. My Uber driver, Richard, would be pulling up in a Tesla to deliver me to the O’Hare airport.

I’ve ridden in some fancy cars but I’ve never been in a Tesla. I was excited and starting to feel fancy myself…well, until he pulled in the drive. He backed the slicklooking silver car up and popped the trunk. I guess that should have been my first clue that chivalry was dead in the city. He wasn’t getting out from behind the wheel. I had to put all my bags in the back myself.

When I went to get into the front seat, he told me he preferred for me to ride in the backseat. That was strike two for Richard.

We made our way to the airport with some casual conversation. I told him he had a nice car and asked him the best and worst things about owning a Tesla. He told me driving the car was the best but paying for it was the worst. He also told me he was going to take off work the following day to clean it thoroughly, because he didn’t like getting dirt or fingerprints on it.

Sydney had also warned me about the doors. You have to push a button and push on the door at the same time or it won’t open. When we arrived at the airport, Richard instructed me not to touch the actual door and when I got out, he would close it automatically.

I’m going to go ahead and go out on a limb and say this was Richard’s third strike. Why? I was tired of his rules and hearing him boast about his fancy car. Besides, who loves their car that much? Well, besides Richard.

I guess I was feeling a little on the ornery side. I opened the door and unloaded the trunk because Richard still wasn’t moving. The back door was still standing wide open, so I grabbed it with my hand and slammed it shut. I could see my palm and fingerprints all over the outside of the door and I couldn’t help but feel satisfied.

Of course, that was great but my real reward was seeing the look of disgust on Richard’s face as I hit the trunk one more time with my palm and told him to have a good day!

If you’re reading this Richard, sell that thing and buy a Chevrolet or a Ford. I think you’ll have better luck keeping it clean.

And how was your week?