The concept of self-driving cars cruising through the UK streets seemed far-fetched to me until a recent experience proved otherwise. Just weeks ago, I found myself stepping into one of Wayve’s autonomous vehicles for a test drive across north London.

Back in June, Wayve revealed a collaboration with Uber to launch trials of Level 4 autonomous robotaxis in the city by 2026. This initiative is part of a government strategy aiming to expedite self-driving trials before a potential broader launch in late 2027. Meanwhile, Waymo, owned by Alphabet, is planning its own driverless taxi service for London in 2026, marking its initial venture outside the US, where it’s already a common sight in cities like San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Phoenix.

My doubts about self-driving cars thriving in London aren’t baseless. The city presents a formidable challenge for robotaxis. With its centuries-old, labyrinthine roads designed for horse-drawn carriages, London’s infrastructure is a complex maze. Narrow lanes complicate the task of dodging obstacles like potholes and parked cars. Add to this the chaotic mix of other road users—pedestrians, tourists, cyclists, and even occasional military horses—and the notorious roundabouts and unpredictable weather, and you have a daunting environment for autonomous technology.

Even if robotaxis can conquer London’s roads, gaining the trust of Londoners is another hurdle. The British public remains cautious about AI-driven vehicles, ranking among the most skeptical globally. The technology’s past is marred by broken promises and failures, breeding skepticism that new players must overcome. Furthermore, the presence of iconic black cabs poses a cultural challenge. While Uber’s arrival incited fierce protests from cab drivers, the current sentiment toward driverless cars is dismissive, with some likening them to mere novelties or tourist attractions.

Contrary to perceptions of driverless cars as novelties, Wayve’s headquarters exudes a no-nonsense vibe. The unadorned brick and black metal fencing of their office, a stone’s throw from King’s Cross—an area now bustling with tech giants like Google and Meta—belie the company’s humble beginnings in a Cambridge garage in 2017 under cofounder Alex Kendall. Despite raising over $1 billion from investors like Nvidia, Microsoft, and SoftBank, and reportedly eyeing more funding, the setting remains grounded.

The fleet of Ford Mustang Mach-Es doesn’t scream “futuristic” either. The only hint of their autonomous nature is a discreet box of sensors perched above the windshield, a stark contrast to the more conspicuous equipment found on Waymo vehicles.

Inside, it was just as ordinary. As we rolled out of Wayve’s compound, the only thing that really stood out was the big red emergency stop button in the center console, a reminder that, legally speaking, a human driver needs to be ready to seize control at any moment. If it hadn’t been for the shrill buzz going off to indicate the robotaxi had taken over, I don’t think I’d have noticed the driver had given up any control at all.

It handled the city well — far better than I expected. Within minutes, we’d left the quiet side streets near Wayve’s base and joined a busier road. The car eased between parked cars and delivery vehicles, slowed politely when food couriers cut in front of us on electric bikes, and, mercifully, didn’t mow down any of the pedestrians who treated London’s crossings more like suggestions than rules.

The ride wasn’t exactly smooth, though, and nothing like the ethereal calm I felt when I took my first Waymo in San Francisco this summer. Wayve was more hesitant than I’m used to, a little like when my sister took me out for the first time after earning her license a few years ago.

That hesitancy is especially odd in London. Friends, cabbies, bus drivers, and Uber drivers I’ve ridden with all seem to exude a kind of impatient confidence, a sense of urgency that Wayve utterly lacked. I’ve not driven since I passed my test 15 years ago — the Tube makes it pretty easy to do without in London — but its pauses still managed to test my patience. Our route took us past the high walls of Pentonville Prison in Islington, and we trundled behind a cyclist I was sure even I could safely overtake and any Londoner certainly would have.

I later learned this tentativeness is a feature, not a bug. Unlike Waymo — which uses a combination of detailed maps, rules, sensors, and AI to drive — Wayve employs an end-to-end AI model that lets it drive in a generalizable way. In other words, Wayve drives more like a human and less like a machine. It certainly felt that way; I kept glancing at the safety driver’s hands, half expecting to see them having already retaken control. They never had. Other drivers seemed convinced too. A policeman even raised his hand in thanks as we left him a space to turn into a petrol station, though maybe that was meant for the safety driver.

In theory, this embodied AI approach means you could drop a Wayve car anywhere and it would simply adapt, similar to the way a human driver might when navigating an unfamiliar city. I’m not sure I’m ready to test that myself, but the team said they’d recently been driving out in the Scottish Highlands and came back unscathed.

I later learned the company, which is targeting markets in Japan, Europe, and North America, has been traveling around the world on an AI “roadshow” this year to test its technology in 500 unfamiliar cities. Knowing this, it seems Wayve will have little need to take The Knowledge, a series of exams for London’s black cab drivers to show they have memorized thousands of streets and places, letting them navigate without GPS (it also makes scientists love their brains).

The approach means the technology is also designed to respond to the world more fluidly and react in a more human manner to those unexpected scenarios and edge cases that terrify autonomous carmakers. On my trip, it did just that. Roadworks, learner drivers, groups of cyclists, and London buses, even a person on crutches veering into the street — it handled each capably, albeit more cautiously than a London driver probably would have. The most nerve-wracking moment came when a blind man edged out with his cane between two parked cars — a scene so on the nose I had to ask the company if it had been staged (it hadn’t) — but before I could react, the car had already slowed and shifted course.

By the time we pulled back into Wayve’s compound, I realized I’d stopped wondering who was driving. It was only the repeat of the shrill buzzer that signaled our safety driver was back in control. My brain, it seems, has finally accepted autonomy, at least London’s version of it. It’s rougher around the edges, less sci-fi, more human. And maybe that’s the point.