SUNDAY, JULY 20, 2025 -- I totaled my beloved vintage Lexus the other day. Nobody was injured. No other vehicle was damaged. The pole I hit was barely scratched. Still, I decided it was time to join the growing ride-hailing generation full time and let someone else do the driving.

Living in San Francisco, this is not difficult. Uber and Lyft are ubiquitous and there are still traditional taxis. Besides, in the last year or so, San Francisco has been overrun with space-agey-looking four-door sedans festooned with whirring gizmos on the roof and fenders. Only thing missing: a driver.

Called a Waymo One or just Waymo, these driverless, all-electric vehicles are slowly but steadily snatching away riders from the ride-hail operators and taxis. Waymo claims there are more than 300 white, Jaguar-made automatons in town. They aren't legally permitted to take travelers to San Francisco (SFO) or Oakland (OAK) airports yet, but Waymo is pushing hard to cut into that lucrative market, too.

I have hailed Waymos for relatively short rides around San Francisco with mixed results. Waymo claims that its prices are a bit cheaper than Uber and Lyft, mainly because there is no driver to tip. But my experience was frustrating and unnerving for the first couple of rides. After downloading the Waymo app, you punch in a pickup address and a destination and wait until you're assigned a vehicle. But on my first try, my phone indicated that I'd have to wait 10 minutes at my designated location.

That's too long. It was 3pm, I was waiting on California Street, a busy road in the Fillmore District, and driverless Waymos were whizzing past me. At one point, four Waymos in a row passed me. Typically, I wait just two to five minutes for an Uber or Lyft.

I almost cancelled the Waymo ride, but was curious to try it out because business-travel friends from Minneapolis and Vienna recently visited San Francisco and raved about Waymo.

I waited and waited. My phone tracked a Waymo's progress in reaching me: ten minutes, nine minutes, eight minutes. Suddenly, the app said my Waymo had arrived. But where was it? I couldn't see it.

Uber and Lyft tell you the brand, color and license plate of your car plus the driver's first name and a phone number to call if there is a problem. Waymo cars look identical and, of course, there is no driver to call. But the Waymo app does give you the license plate.

I found myself standing at the busy intersection of California and Laguna streets searching frantically for my Waymo that, I was told, had arrived and would only wait two minutes for me before leaving. Finally, I spotted a Waymo parked two-thirds of a block down California Street. I ran to it and opened the door but, of course, there was no one behind the steering wheel to greet me. There was a "welcome Chris" verbal announcement inside--but I certainly didn't feel welcomed.

Suddenly, the trunk popped open. I didn't have luggage, but the Waymo didn't know or sense that. I fumbled around inside and found a button to close the trunk and another to start the ride.

We were off. Almost. The Waymo shook and shuddered slightly before pulling out into the heavy afternoon traffic. Then it took a route to my destination that wasn't the shortest. I heard some soft music during the ride.

When we arrived, it overshot the drop-off address by half a block. The Waymo stopped and the trunk sprung open. I eased out of the car and looked back: The trunk was still open and the zombie vehicle was not moving. The price was $9.85, about what I expected. But it wasn't disclosed on my app, either before or after the ride.

My next Waymo hail was a disaster. I waited nine minutes, but a car never arrived. I cancelled the ride and ordered an Uber, which came in three minutes. Two later Waymo hails were uneventful, but I still wasn't particularly comfortable with the driverless service. One reason: I happen to like to chat with a driver.

(Of course, ride hailing with a driver behind the steering wheel has its quirks, too. I've had Uber drivers cancel a ride with no explanation when I was on a tight schedule. Some Uber drivers make Uber Eats food deliveries in their spare time and several acquaintances tell me they have smelled pizzas and BBQ in the back seat. There have been times when I ordered an Uber, but was handed off to a car and driver from Flywheel.)

Owned by technology giant Alphabet, parent company of Google, Waymo is slowly expanding. Its so-called robotaxis also are up and running in Los Angeles and Phoenix. In Atlanta and Austin, Waymo has teamed with Uber. Waymo says its next markets will be Washington and Miami.

But Waymo is hardly alone in the robotaxi field. In Austin, Elon Musk last month began testing Tesla's long-awaited driverless taxi scheme. And Amazon is putting its corporate toe in the driverless robotaxi market in Las Vegas. Its boxy, squatty four-wheel vehicles are called Zoox. Amazon proudly and loudly claims they are "not a car" and promises to open the Miami, Austin and San Francisco markets, too.

To double-check my research, I booked another Waymo before I finished this column. Surprisingly, it came in just three minutes. It arrived on-time, right in front of me. I didn't have to search for it on a busy street with other look-alike Waymos. It indicated that it would wait six minutes for me to climb in, not the two minutes I was allotted on earlier trips. The ride was serene and I was dropped off right at my destination, not half a block away. In other words, flawless.

But a big annoyance remains: Waymo does not quote the fee until after the ride although my trip was reasonable at under $10.

Bottom line: Blind cost or not, I'll give Waymo another go next time.