My official job title is an oxymoron.

I’m an “autonomous vehicle operator,” which says nothing— just like a lot of other job titles.

Actually, it was my first job right out of college. After just a few weeks of training, I was put behind the wheel and told to take over when necessary. I really thought I’d be stuck in a dreary cubicle hidden faraway within the depths of some corporate dungeon.

Originally, I just wanted a job— any job! But, I’ve begun to love this job for many reasons. I’ve traveled across the country to different testing grounds while working with so many car nerds that their enthusiasm has begun to rub off on me. I’ve grown to become a true believer that, if done correctly, this technology will save lives.

All of my work happens in closed-off testing facilities, instead of on public roads. We’re given these huge concrete wastelands where some software engineers have crafted imaginary cities for these cars to drive around. But, someone still has to actually put it into drive, place the cones, or sometimes just walk out in-front of it. When somebody’s life is at stake like that, you have to know how to control your vehicle. First, a human trainer teaches you— and then your job is to teach the car.

A couple of my coworkers race their cars in their free time. Driving until your tires scream, and pushing your vehicle to the limit is exhilarating. It’s not every day you get that sort of excitement.

Racing and Writing

At the end of the day, I retreat from the baking blacktop into my air-conditioned car. I’ve learned to trust the cruise control, which nowadays can take me back to my home, hundreds of miles away, all hands free. I like to put on podcasts, and recently I listened to an Apple News Narrated article entitled “What happens after A.I. Destroys college writing?” written by Hua Hsu.

Thinking back to high school, I had a love-hate relationship with writing. On one hand, I was particularly proud about getting a top score in the advanced placement language and composition course. On the other, I could never seem to please my community college English teacher with any of my essays. In reflection, I think I enjoyed the process the most— not the criticism.

Sometimes my hand-written essays were littered with phantoms of erased sentences. Other times, I could enter a state where the words just flowed off my fingertips, through the pencil and onto the page. When you’re racing, sometimes you enter a similar state. The steering wheel becomes an extension of you, connecting you to the tires. Once I leave the driver seat, the score seems mystifying to me. Sure, I try to think when I’m racing and writing, but more importantly I’m trying to express. For me, the only way to make a difference between my thoughts and my expressions is to actually practice.

It would defeat the entire point for me to relinquish the steering wheel to an algorithm on the track. If I wouldn’t let an algorithm take the wheel, why would I let it hold the pen?