When I meet Will DeRoberts at the Tito’s Burritos in Boonton, he’s already pulling on a latex glove.

It’s the start of his lunch shift driving for DoorDash in the Boonton and Parsippany-Troy Hills area in Morris County.

“Are you here for Alex?” a worker calls over to him.

“Yes,” he says, approaching the counter. He grabs the paper bags — burritos, a quesadilla and some dessert — with his gloved hand, placing it in a red, insulated bag with the DoorDash logo on the side.

Will loads the food in the back of his SUV, a blue-ish 2005 Toyota Highlander, and we climb in. He peels his latex glove off and squirts hand sanitizer into his palm from a small container hanging around his neck.

“So you got Purell around your neck and you got gloves in your pocket?” I say.

“Well, I’m 63 years old, I’m not sure if I’m at risk for the virus,” he says.

I’m riding along with Will today because its clear the COVID-19 pandemic, caused by the novel coronavirus, is getting worse. Schools have started to close, the CDC started recommending social distancing, self-isolation and limiting gatherings with large crowds. Several major sports leagues had suspended their seasons.

And through it all, delivery drivers like himself are emerging as a critical piece of American infrastructure. With thousands, likely millions, of New Jerseyans quarantined at home, who is able to deliver necessities like meals and groceries?

These days, it’s drivers like Will, usually through apps like DoorDash, GrubHub, UberEats and Instacart. In parts of China, delivery drivers have become a lifeline.

At the same time, it’s not clear how much weight the gig economy can handle.

Even though drivers like Will are (mostly) working like normal right now, what happens when things get worse?

Already, from Friday when I rode with Will, to today, Tuesday, cases of positive tests have exploded.

Some Uber and Lyft drivers say they’re staying off the roads during the outbreak so they don’t risk getting sick or transmitting the disease. Two Instacart shoppers I spoke with said they’re getting more business than ever, but spending hours in crowded grocery stores like CostCo.

So, I’m riding with Will to see how this system is operating first-hand.

This is a post-retirement job for Will. He worked as a systems analyst for several large companies, including a stint at The New York Times, and receives a pension from Roche Pharmaceuticals. The side gigs and work at a temp agency fill out his budgets.

On a good day, Will makes $20 an hour from DoorDash, before factoring in expenses like gas, oil and car insurance.

His other temp jobs, however, are “dead," he says. No work to be found.

As we climb in his car, its clear he has a set up for these shifts. A phone-holder that sticks to the windshield is off to his left, and GPS sits atop the radio so he doesn’t use up his cellular data while navigating. A box of latex gloves is on the dashboard for easy access and, of course, he’s got the Purell around his neck.

And, perhaps as a testament to his driving abilities, an open mug of coffee sat in the center consul. It never spilled. I point that out to him and he laughs.

As we start driving to drop off the burritos and quesadillas, Will says he’s seen people adjust their interactions with him due to the outbreak.

“I went out Monday and people were obviously sick when they answered the door,” he said. “And I’ve been getting “just leave it at the door.” UberEats, DoorDash and other platforms have begun testing no-contact deliveries like that as the outbreak has worsened.

We arrive at the house and Will pulls on a latex glove to grab the food from the back. A young man in pajama pants answers the door.

“Home sick?” Will asks him.

“No, just lazy,” the man says. That’s a relief.

He tipped well — $10 — netting Will $14 total for the run.

For the day’s second order, we end up at Howard Bakery in Lake Hiawatha to retrieve a Taylor Ham, egg and cheese, (with ketchup, but hold the cheese), and an onion bagel with scrambled eggs.

Will dons a fresh latex glove, grabs a Postmates bag from the back and heads inside.

The door is propped open so we don’t have to touch anything. Will uses his freshly gloved hand to put the food bag in the Postmates bag, put the bag in the car, takes the glove off, and applies another squirt of hand sanitizer.

The store was rather busy with regular customers but we’re out of there in five minutes. Our exposure was minimal, we hope. We drive to a fancy neighborhood, full of large brick and stone houses, some with big circular driveways with luxury cars parked in them.

We park in one of the driveways and Will jumps to action. Pull on the glove, grab the food, ring the doorbell.

A glass door cracks open, and Will hands the food through. The latex glove comes off, he applies a squirt of hand sanitizer and completes the order on his phone. Done.

Will tells me he only started using the hand sanitizer recently, after the owner of a bakery and cafe scolded him for not using it.

“Are you DoorDash? Wipe your hands, disinfect right now before you touch anything,” he recalls the woman telling him. Ever since, he wears a small bottle around his neck.

He also avoids picking up from restaurants where he’s seen employees work without wearing gloves, he said.

“I’m used to wearing gloves all the time,” he tells me. Yesterday, DoorDash emailed its drivers in North Jersey that they can now order latex gloves and hand sanitizer from the company if they pay $5 in shipping. Will said he’s going to take that offer.

We have one more order for this shift: Chipotle.

We pull into a large shopping center parking lot and repeat the routine: Don glove, grab bag, head in.

We waited near the counter for two minutes until the order was ready and then a Chipotle employee (also with a gloved hand) placed the paper bag in Will’s food bag. We push out the door, Will loads the food, takes the glove off, applies hand sanitizer and updates the app.

“Didn’t touch a thing,” he says triumphantly. “That’s rare, very rare.”

When we arrive back in Boonton to deliver the Chipotle, it’s glove, grab, knock. A young woman answers and they have a short conversation about the order. I get nervous that they’re talking for so long. Will wasn’t.

“You’ll notice I was far away, and she looked healthy,” he said. “Some people come to the door looking like zombies.”

In total for the hour and a half our lunch shift lasts, Will nets $36, minus taxes and $14 for a quarter tank of gas. Not too bad.

Along the way, I ask Will a bigger-picture question about his role as a worker in the gig economy during a national and global pandemic: Does he see himself as an important piece of infrastructure as things get worse?

“If you’re self-quarantined, what else are you gonna do?” he said.

Follow the CDC website for more and updated information. For coverage of coronavirus in New Jersey, follow www.nj.com/coronavirus.

J. Dale Shoemaker is a reporter on the data & investigations team. He can be reached at jshoemaker@njadvancemedia.com. Follow him on Twitter at @JDale_Shoemaker.