I never believed that self-driving cars would come to the UK, so you can imagine my surprise when a few weeks ago I climbed into one of Wayve’s self-driving vehicles and set off on a journey around North London.
In June, the company announced plans to start testing fully autonomous Level 4 robotics in the capital with Uber in 2026 as part of the project government plan to accelerate autonomous vehicle pilots ahead of a potential wider market rollout in overdue 2027. Alphabet-owned Waymo, currently a major presence in US cities such as San Francisco, Los Angeles and Phoenix, also has its eye on London, announcing plans for its own fully autonomous robotaxi service in 2026, one of its first attempts to expand outside the US.
My skepticism about whether autonomous cars will work in London is not unfounded. In many ways, London is a robotaxi’s worst nightmare. At every possible step, the city is at odds with autonomy. The road network is narrow, winding and tough to navigate – a concrete swamp that has developed over the centuries, designed to be used by horses and carts, not cars. Narrow streets make avoiding obstacles – potholes, parked cars, you know how it goes – even more tough, and this is before we even consider the flood of other vehicles, pedestrians, tourists, cyclists, buses, taxis and animals (such as rebellious military horses) sharing the road. And the less said about roundabouts and the weather, the better.
Even if a robotaxi manages to successfully navigate London, it also needs Londoners on board equipped with the technology. This can be tough. We’re skeptical about putting AI in cars; surveys degree The British are among the worst in the world. There was also a lot noise – and failures – associated with technology in the past, leaving a legacy of distrust and disbelief that recent players must dispel. There are also the iconic black taxis to contend with, who are known to be good bargainers. When Uber came on the scene, taxi drivers repeatedly brought London to stasisand the group is there still at war with the ride-sharing company Today. That said, they don’t seem too threatened this time, rejection autonomous cars as an “amusement park ride” and “tourist attraction in San Francisco.”
Wayve’s headquarters didn’t feel like a San Francisco tourist attraction. The combination of undecorated brick and black metal fencing gives Wayve, which started life in a Cambridge garage in 2017 and is still run by co-founder Alex Kendall, the feel of a casual warehouse. Just 15 minutes away is King’s Cross, a reformed industrial wasteland now home to companies like Google and Meta that many would consider a more conventional place for a company that has raised over $1 billion from titans like Nvidia, Microsoft and SoftBank (and is they are reportedly in talks to raise an additional $2 billion).
His cars – a fleet of Ford Mustang Mach-Es – didn’t look all that futuristic either. The only real attraction they planned to replace human drivers was a miniature box with sensors mounted above the windshield, unlike the intrusive humps at the top of the Waymos.
Inside it was equally ordinary. As we drove out of Wayve’s compound, the only thing that really stood out was the massive red emergency stop button on the center console, a reminder that legally, a human driver must be ready to take control at a moment’s notice. If it weren’t for the shrill sound that signaled the robotaxi had taken over, I don’t think I would have noticed that the driver had lost control at all.
It handled the city well – much better than I expected. Within minutes, we left the silent side streets near the Wayve base and joined a busier road. The car drove between parked cars and delivery vans, slowed down politely as food couriers overtook us on electric bikes, and fortunately didn’t mow down any of the pedestrians for whom London’s border crossings were more suggestions than regulations.
But the journey wasn’t entirely glossy, and nothing like the ethereal peace I felt when I took my first Waymo in San Francisco this summer. Wayve was more hesitant than usual, kind of like when my sister took me out on a date a few years ago for the first time after she got her driver’s license.
This hesitation is particularly strange in London. The friends, taxi drivers, bus drivers, and Uber drivers I’ve traveled with seem to exude an impatient confidence and sense of urgency that Wayve completely lacked. I haven’t driven since I passed my test 15 years ago – it’s straightforward to get by without the tube in London – but the breaks still test my patience. Our route took us past the towering walls of Pentonville Prison in Islington and we barreled past a cyclist that even I could have safely overtaken, as any Londoner would have done.
I later learned that this insecurity is a feature, not a bug. Unlike Waymo, which uses a combination of detailed maps, rules, sensors and artificial intelligence to drive, Wayve uses a comprehensive artificial intelligence model that allows it to drive in a generalized manner. In other words, Wayve drives more like a human and less like a machine. It certainly seemed that way; I glanced at the safety driver’s hands, half expecting him to have regained control. They never did this. The other drivers seemed convinced too. The policeman even raised his hand in thanks as we left room for him to turn into the gas station, though maybe that was intended for the safety driver.
In theory, this AI-powered approach means you can drop a Wayve car anywhere and it will simply adapt, much like a human driver navigating an unfamiliar city. I’m not sure I’m ready to test it myself, but the team said yes I recently rode through the Scottish highlands and returned unscathed.
This approach means the technology also aims to respond more seamlessly to the world and respond in a more human way to unexpected scenarios and edge cases that terrify autonomous car makers. This is exactly what happened during my trip. Roadworks, novice drivers, groups of cyclists and London buses, even a person on crutches turning onto the street – he handled each task efficiently, albeit more carefully than a London driver would probably do. The most stressful moment was when a blind man wedged his cane between two parked cars – a scene so tense that I had to ask the company if it was staged (which it wasn’t) – but before I could react, the car had already slowed down and changed course.
When we got back to Wayve’s property, I realized I had stopped wondering who was driving. Only the repetition of the shrill buzzer signaled that our safety driver had regained control. It seems my brain has finally accepted autonomy, at least the London version of it. It’s rougher around the edges, less science fiction, more human. And maybe that’s the point.