I’m a type; a meme, even. I’m probably several, certainly in my daughters’ eyes. But I’m certainly this one: a Waze dad. I didn’t even realise there was such a thing until one of my daughters sent me an Instagram thing featuring a photograph, taken from the back seat, of a slightly pudgy middle-aged fellow at the wheel of a family car. It says: “I have a Waze dad. Speed check ahead? He’s reporting it. Car stopped in 0.3 miles? He’s updating it. Faster route that saves 2min? He’s taking it.”
Yes, that’s me. Tragic, really. Parts of it, anyway. For those who don’t know, Waze is a navigation app that tells you how to get to where you are going and which route to take, taking into account the traffic. It’s not the only app that does this, but it’s the only one that, it claims, relies on information its users input as they drive. It’s about the wisdom of crowds, you see – the collected wisdom of Waze dads like me. You can, of course, get the benefit of Waze wisdom without taking the trouble to report anything. But that makes you a taker, not a giver. That makes you most definitely not a true Waze dad.
There is a lot going on here. What does it say about you if you do or don’t tap in your observations? At times, I have wondered if the contributory element makes any difference to the routeing. I have suspicions it may be no more than a kindly ruse to convince men of my vintage that we have something, anything, of use to share.
Also, is it right to warn drivers of speed traps? Are you not aiding and abetting dangerous road users in their wicked ways, shielding them from the consequences of their actions? And what is it about the dopamine rush you get when, thanks to the community-minded goodness of humble drivers just like us, you are notified that a better route has emerged? So what if it saves you only three minutes? It’s rude not to take it. Waze dads everywhere must sit a little taller in their seats and be proud that, together, we are part of something bigger and that we still matter in this changing world.
