Picture this: I’m in a new city, miles away from my regular, tech-driven life in Bangalore. Back home, hopping into an auto(rickshaw) is almost effortless. With a quick tap on my phone, a driver appears, and I barely lift a finger to start my journey. Directions? The app’s got it. Payment? Taken care of. But here I was in this new city, stepping out of my cozy tech cocoon, and in for an old-school surprise.
(for the flow of this blog, I will use the word auto instead of autorickshaw because that is the name which it goes by in India)
Step One: The Art of Flagging Down an Auto
The first reality check hit me when I realized I’d forgotten how to actually get an auto to stop. I must have looked like a fish out of water, flapping my arms like I was flagging down an alien spaceship instead of just an auto! I kept expecting some kind of notification or signal—anything to let me know one was on the way. In Bangalore, I’ve grown used to simply ordering my ride on an app, watching a dot move closer on a map. Here, I was just hoping one would stop! It took a couple of awkward waves (and missed rides) before I finally got the hang of it again.
Step Two: The Communication Challenge
Finally, I hopped into the auto, feeling accomplished… until it was time to tell the driver my destination. Like muscle memory gone wrong, I instinctively held out my phone, expecting him to check the map and nod. Instead, he gave me a blank, slightly bemused look. And that’s when it hit me—he wasn’t even used to maps. I realized that without the help of GPS, I was completely out of practice at simply telling someone where I wanted to go!
I fumbled through half-formed sentences, scrambled landmarks, and vague phrases. “It’s near… you know, that roundabout thing?” I said, pointing vaguely into the distance, hoping he’d just know. Without a map to help, I felt like I was on a solo navigation mission in an unknown universe. When did I get so rusty at this?
Step Three: The Metre Returns!
Once I’d (finally) managed to communicate my destination, the driver flipped on the metre. Yes, the metre—the very one I hadn’t thought about in ages! Watching it tick upward as we drove, I realized just how much I’ve come to rely on the app-fixed prices and surcharges of Bangalore life. Seeing that little metre working away with no app-generated fare breakdown or estimates felt almost retro. I half-expected a meter check option in the app, only to remember there was no app here at all!
In Bangalore, knowing the fare ahead of time has become such a given that it didn’t occur to me that I’d actually have to watch the metre to know how much I’d pay. It was a little unnerving, but also kind of thrilling to be back in a world where you don’t know your fate until the end of the ride!
The Takeaway: A Dose of Auto Humility
This little adventure in the “non-tech” world of auto rides reminded me how much I’ve let technology take the wheel in my life. From getting the auto to stop, to explaining where I wanted to go, to watching the fare go up—every step showed me that the skills I once used without thinking have now been replaced by apps and GPS.
It turns out there’s something a bit nostalgic and humbling about ditching the tech and going back to the basics. While I’ll never complain about the ease that tech has brought to my life, I also won’t take for granted the simplicity of a good old auto ride. Here’s to the skills I’ve nearly forgotten—and to being reminded of them in the most unexpected (and human) way possible.