On October 27, 2025, a car ran over a cat in San Francisco. From thousands of miles away, that incident still landed with unusual force: the animal, a nine-year-old cat named KitKat, was killed by a self-driving Waymo vehicle owned by Google parent Alphabet, and the story quickly traveled far beyond California. The episode became more than a local tragedy. It turned into a global flashpoint in the debate over whether autonomous vehicles are ready to share the road with people, pets and the unpredictable chaos of city traffic.
Local residents condemned Waymo's safety standards and even erected a monument for KitKat, while supporters of robotaxis argued that human drivers kill far more animals every year and that self-driving systems, unlike people, can improve with every software iteration. That tension — between the promise of safer roads and the fear of machine error — framed the experience when, almost a year later, I booked a Waymo ride in San Francisco.
The trip was short, from a hotel to a nearby metro station, and it took place when the roads were empty. But even in that quiet setting, the ride felt like a test case for the future of urban transport. Hailing the robotaxi was not dramatically different from ordering an Uber or even an Indian auto. The Waymo app required a profile, payment details, a pickup point and a destination. Riders can request a car immediately or schedule one for later. The process was straightforward, though the app itself was slow to load.
Once inside, the service felt polished and carefully designed. The payment process worked seamlessly despite using an Indian credit card, and an e-receipt arrived quickly. Waymo also offered credit for a future ride, a small but effective gesture that made the service feel less experimental and more consumer-ready.
The vehicle that arrived was a Jaguar, which was an unexpected and pleasant surprise. Its dark interior was pristine, comfortable and scent-free. There was enough room in the back for a large suitcase, and the cabin felt more like a private shuttle than a conventional taxi. Above the seating area, a skylight revealed the spinning sensor mounted on the roof, a constant reminder that the car was being watched over by a machine rather than a driver.
Inside, two screens handled the ride experience. One sat at the front, while a wider display faced the back seat. They showed the route, traffic visuals, estimated arrival times, safety announcements and media controls. After the greeting and safety briefing, the car played soothing ambient music. Riders on longer trips can sync Spotify and YouTube playlists, and the temperature can be adjusted to suit personal comfort. The default setting on this chilly morning was warm, which made the cabin feel even more inviting.
The most striking detail was the steering wheel. It moved on its own as the car followed its route, creating the uncanny impression of being chauffeured by an invisible person. Brake and accelerator pedals were present, though they did not visibly move during the ride. Unlike the minimalist, futuristic image often associated with autonomous vehicles — or the sleek concept of Tesla's Cybercab — Waymo's car still retained many of the familiar driving and media controls in the front seat. The result was a hybrid of old and new: a car that looked like a car, but behaved like a machine.
Yet safety remained the central question. Remembering KitKat, and having seen videos of Waymo cars allegedly running red lights or entering restricted emergency zones, the ride began with a degree of apprehension. Waymo had altered the pickup location from the preferred spot outside the hotel, a small but noticeable reminder that the system was making decisions on its own terms. Even so, the experience itself was calm and uneventful, which in the world of autonomous driving is exactly the point.
That is the paradox at the heart of Waymo and the broader robotaxi industry. The technology is designed to reduce human error, remove fatigue, and eventually make roads safer. But every incident involving a self-driving vehicle carries outsized symbolic weight because the public is still deciding whether to trust machines with something as ordinary — and as emotionally loaded — as a ride across town. A cat's death, a smooth ride, a glowing screen, a spinning sensor: together they tell the story of a technology that is no longer theoretical, but not yet fully accepted.
For now, Waymo's service appears both impressive and incomplete — a glimpse of a future that is already here, but still asking to be forgiven for its mistakes.