UberVolk

Driver number 1: Break Your Bubble. 4.8 miles, 22 minutes, $12.70.

Every time I ride with another driver I talk about driving.

This driver was thin. He seemed tall. He had high, jutting cheekbones. He was really nice.

“Have you been in Seattle long?” I said.

“Eighteen years,” he said.

“Your English is excellent,” I said. “Where were you before?”

“South Africa,” he said.

“How do you like the U.S.?” I said.

“I don’t want to break your bubble,” he said.

“Hey…don’t hold back with me,” I said.

“I’d rather be in Africa,” he said. “Anywhere in Africa.”

“Whoa,” I said. “Is it Trump?”

“No,” he said. “But he doesn’t help. Let me ask you. Have you ever had a gun up to your head?”

“Shit. No,” I said.

“Well, I have. The guy thought I was an African American. I am an African, I told him, I’m not an African American. Okay? I’m an African from Africa! He did not like African Americans. Not at all. He let me go but that was bad, okay?”

“Holy shit,” I said.

“It’s not that great for black people here,” he said.

“Wow, man,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks,” he said. “You don’t need to be sorry. Just be glad you’re white.”