Taxis

Ten years ago, I drove cabs for a living. I’m pretty much done telling taxi stories, but there’s one I’ll share today, as it’s more or less in the spirit of Christmas.

It was the Friday before Christmas and I was working the area around Coogee/Maroubra on Sydney’s eastern suburbs beaches. It was a favourite spot to work as the fares were regular, and I stayed out of the city traffic.

So in the early evening, I pick up three young guys in South Coogee. They’re 18, maybe 19, and they get in the cab carrying brown paper bags filled with booze. They say “hey driver, can we drink this in here?”

Continue reading "Christmas tale: I got the bastards and I got ‘em good" »

No matter if you’re sitting in a boozed state in the back of a cab at 2am,  if you’re being taken on a half-hour “shortcut” or have to revert to sign language to say ``take the next left’’, always take time to share a nice word with your cabbie.

Those on the road we never feel guilty to rage at, honk or flick the bird, cabbies are fast becoming public enemy No.1 - And there’s no mystery as to why.

In hometown Brisbane it’s hard to get a driver who speaks English and doesn’t stare at you blankly when you ask them to drive you into town.  Their 12 hours shifts means they get bored with indicating, speed limits, right of way and other minor road rules and a simple ``to the airport please’’ usually provokes a frantic tom-tom tap-fest.

Continue reading "Try talking to your cabbie, you might learn something" »