John Richards

FSD drove my wife and I all the way from San Diego to Palm Springs for the weekend. Today it gave us an architectural tour powered by @grok . It picked the homes to see and routed them all together perfectly. I didn't film the whole thing, this is just a glimpse.

Yesterday I drove my @tesla 900 miles on FSD from Miami to Nashville and I realized it’s genuinely the better option. I fly that route 2 to 3 times a month. Flights are never under $400. Most times $600. Sometimes $800. Add Uber to and from both airports, or parking garage fees. Then factor in the delays, the cancellations, the security theater, the chaos, the guy next to you who hasn’t met deodorant yet. On the other hand: I pack healthy snacks, press one button, and the car just goes. I took calls. Replied to emails. FaceTimed my family. Ate without pulling over. Did everything I normally do on a travel day, except none of the stuff that makes travel days miserable. My biggest concern going in was range and charging. Here’s what actually happened: My bladder needed one extra stop the car didn’t even suggest. Most charging stops were under five minutes. Total cost for the whole trip was less than just the uber to the airport. And this was the base model Y. Now I’m thinking I should get something comfier and just make this the default.

Britain is getting poorer every day. Former Prime Minister @trussliz on The Mike Graham Show today… youtu.be/fY1mpG9q_UY?si… youtu.be/fY1mpG9q_UY?si…

Thank you @CernBasher . We both live this . Currently I am the robot you're describing. For 10 years, I've been the 24/7 monitoring system, the lift-and-transfer mechanism, the medication reminder, the fall detection sensor, the emotional support interface. My mother's life has been in my hands every single day since her aneurysm at 74 — when they told us she'd have no quality of life, and we proved them wrong. But the cost? I know it intimately. The sleep that never comes deep enough. The hypervigilance that keeps you awake even when you should be resting. The bone-deep exhaustion of being the failsafe for another human being's existence. Watching someone you love struggle to do what was once effortless. The guilt when you snap because you're running on fumes. The terror that a single mistake — one missed medication, one fall you don't catch, one moment of inattention — could end everything. I've given pieces of myself I didn't know I had. And I'm one of the "lucky" ones — I had the health background, the resources, the determination. Most caregivers don't. The world asks us to be superhuman. To sustain impossible vigilance indefinitely. To pour from cups that ran empty years ago. And when we break — because we do break — the system shrugs. "Family care," they call it, as if that makes it sustainable. You're right. This isn't about replacing humans with machines. It's about recognizing that what we're asking of caregivers is inhuman. I don't want a robot to love my mother. I want a robot to lift her so my back doesn't give out. To monitor her vitals so I can sleep for four hours without waking in a panic. To handle the repetitive, crushing physical labour so I have the energy to actually *be* with her — to talk, to laugh, to hold her hand without my mind racing through the next 20 tasks. The future isn't robot OR human. It's robot *enabling* human. It's technology carrying the load so love doesn't have to carry everything alone. Because right now? We're losing. Caregivers are burning out, aging parents are suffering, and the gap between need and capacity widens every day. I've lived inside that gap. I know what it costs. Robots aren't the story. But they could be the tool that finally lets the story be about care again — not just survival.