We watched from afar, not knowing what to think of our strange visitor.
The mysterious blue driverless car did not move from its parking spot on Fashion Hills Road for five consecutive days. After suddenly appearing in our townhouse development one day, it sat there along the curb. What really stimulated people’s curiosity was that its sensors continued to whirr, as if it might be spying on our community, conducting some form of surveillance, looking to catch somebody doing something wrong.
“But why us?” some of the Fashion Hills neighbors were quick to ask. “What did we ever do to deserve such treatment?”
Sure, we had all heard of these hi-tech Waymo vehicles, and one or two of them had recently entered our townhouse development (located on the southern rim of the Linda Vista mesa) to drop off passengers, but this one fascinated us with its inability or unwillingness to drive away and instead remain in the neighborhood like a motionless ghost haunting the premises.
Speculation began to run rampant. After day two, growing crowds of Fashion Hills residents, most of us aging Baby Boomers, gathered a safe distance away from the motionless vehicle. One anxious resident waved a stick at it and was told by others to stop in hopes the vehicle would understand our intentions were peaceful. Eventually, the crowd began discussing the following questions:
- Was the car broken, awaiting a Waymo tow truck?
- Was it just resting?
- Did robotic cars need rest?
- Are Waymo tow trucks driverless too?
- Was this autonomous car the victim of a software error?
- Should we call Waymo and tell the company that one of its vehicles was lost?
- If we got too close, would we possibly provoke it into taking some form of defensive action?”
- Was the rumor true that some Waymo vehicles can dispense tear gas?
We were in a quandary, not knowing what to do, as if we were a collection of 20th century people trying to figure out an answer for a 21st century situation.
And then perhaps because many of our residents had recently seen The Odyssey at the movie theatre, a different series of questions began to be asked aloud: ”What if this is a modern day version of a Trojan horse? What if there is something or somebody inside the car biding its time to get out and wreak havoc on the neighborhood?”
Knowing of Waymo’s association with Google, someone spouted out: ”Beware of geeks bearing false gifts,” and those of us gathered distantly from the car nodded our heads in agreement. Some star-struck Fashion Hills movie fan thinking this might be a Hollywood publicity stunt asked, ”What do you think the chances are that The Odyssey star Matt Damon himself is hiding inside that car?”
Then another asked, ”If Matt Damon is in there, does that mean his buddy Ben Affleck might be in there as well?” And “what about Jennifer Lopez?” asked another.
Then someone said, “What if this is like a Stephen King movie and the car is going to rev up and methodically run us down?”
The whole situation had a very “Twilight Zone” or “X-Files” aura about it.
At the end of the fifth day, the Fashion Hills Homeowners Association scheduled an emergency meeting to help figure what to do about this situation. Naturally, our HOA board of directors was eager to get lawyers involved and either fine the parked vehicle or sue it in court and spend lots of money to prove it was somehow breaking HOA rules or maybe criticizing board member decisions.
But then as mysteriously as it first appeared, the Waymo vehicle disappeared sometime in the dark of night. No explanation given.
Now that our neighborhood Waymo parking crisis is over, we find ourselves missing the mysterious driverless car and its whirring sensors. Though the vehicle appeared somewhat sinister at the time, many of us now think it had benign intentions.
We hope it comes back one day to visit. If so, we promise not to stare at it and cast wild aspersions. We will accept it as one of our own, just like the coyotes that patrol our slopes, the new trash cans that we now pay for, and all the other numerous cars parked alongside our curbs.
Steve Rodriguez is a retired Marine Corps officer and high school teacher who last taught at Olympian High School in Chula Vista.
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