My 2nd First Step is a blog by LaRue Cook, a former senior editor for ESPN The Magazine. His posts chronicle his new life as a driver for Uber and lyft.

A Friday Audit

A Friday Audit

Number of times asked, “You French?”: 4

Number of times asked to bump Drake’s new album: 6

Number of times I snuck in Chance the Rapper and heard, “Yo, who is this?”: 3

Number of times asked to play Future or heard a Future lyric: 8

Number of times I picked up four 18-year-old white kids from club NV, their first-ever Uber ride, and they politely asked for the rap song, “Uber Everywhere,” and if they could put in a chew: 1

Number of selfies taken: 5

Number of times I switched Spotify to Late Night Contemporary or Motown when I saw middle-aged folks coming: 3

Number of times the conversation turned to what I used to do—“ESPN? Are you f---in crazy? So is Stephen A. really an a—hole? And is Skip a douche?”: 10

Number of times I said I lived in Connecticut and the guy asked if it was near New York, and I said I lived in Hartford, and he said, “Oh, Connecticut’s a state.”: 1

Number of times asked to cut my shift short for a beer: 7 [four girls, three guys—if you’ve tuned in to #ubernights, still wonder if I should take the Audi Guy’s advice]

Number of times I said I was 31 and the passenger(s) said, “No f---in way.”: 4

Number of times people were awed by the gas mileage on my dash compared to their F-150s and/or SUVs, which may or may not be donned with Trump stickers: 5

Number of times I parked at a neighbor’s to pick up a 40-year-old man who was avoiding a “stalker” while his ex-wife called trying to avoid the inevitable—“after she cheats three times, she wants to make up”—and his new lady (not the stalker) called to give him updates on the stalker, and he finally told me that once his divorce goes through he’ll get a vasectomy and this will all be gravy [I thanked him for being an inspiration]: 1

Number of times I picked up a rail-thin white guy in blue-jean shorts and a chiseled black guy with dreads tucked into a do-rag, and a Hispanic guy in a Corona T [again, no making this s--- up], and we all bonded over our first arrest, and of all the people I was invited to join, I watched them drift off with the most envy, the thought of a cold beer on a warm night, oblivious to the fact (or at least ignoring) that anyone would wonder how it was we came to be:

A Lesson from Leroy's Mother

A Lesson from Leroy's Mother

A Lesson from the Man from Iran

A Lesson from the Man from Iran