So I drove. I had to. Financially mostly, and emotionally.
Difficulties abound. I would pick up people when my insurance was up. my engine light came on occasionally. My phone god bless it, froze frequently. I was overdrafting my account to buy gas for the night and buying gas station pizza and coffee to keep me going through the night after a days work. Going back merely hours later to stay awake through the work day.
I held back Boston at first, then dove into it with all I had to make a go of it. Make some serious cash. It didn't happen as smoothly as I thought.
I picked a couple up from what appeared to be grocery shopping. my trunk was full of crap. My toolbox, bags of trash, clothes, and my guitar. You could fit things in there, but carefully. I opened it and they shut it right back down. "Sorry. You can put things in the front seat if you need to." They were carrying many bags of food. "No that's fine." They were polite, but I could feel their dissatisfaction.
My phone directed me towards the tunnels. The tunnels in Boston. Jesus. Boston itself is a madhouse of direction even if your GPS or phone IS working, let alone if it' not. In the tunnels, nothing works. Everyone's doing 25mph over the limit down there, you're flying blind, and the exits come up on you so fast you take your life into your hands, swerve, and hope for the best.
There are signs sure. But only feet away from where your quick decision-making skills need to be. They're also mounted on the ceiling panels of the tunnel. You miss them if you're not staring straight up and not on the accident you're about to have with a van or guard rail as you fly doing 60 down there. So really. No. There are no signs.
I had to get off at Albany street. It was an odd set of directions. All while the GPS guesses where you are with no signal. I got the first one right, which lead me to another tunnel. Out for a moment, then back in. More agonizing, it was the same exit for the Mass Pike. A hellish highway through the city everyone avoided. Swift sharp turns off exits and out into the light and BAM a fork where you have to decide. Albany street, or the Pike, both roads heading the same direction, curving off to the right.
I panicked, and chose wrong.
We hopped on the pike. The GPS came back and rerouted to the next fastest route. It added 17 minutes to what was about to end. They needed to BE on Albany street. I was RIGHT THERE. I figured I would hop off quickly and turn around. Not so on the Pike. The next exit was 3 miles away, and the destination now 7 miles away. Anyone whose navigated a city knows every mile comes hard. To make matters worse, the new route took us through the Boston Garden and the Capital Building, the busiest part of the city.
I made this sad realization and profusely apologized. Not much other than grumbling from the backseat. I told them I would do what I could to rectify the issue on my end. Once at their destination I realized they were not in fact home, but were hopping off to catch the train. Their journey was not over. I cancelled the ride after they left, and I collected no money.