Taxi Cab Stories

By John Egan

Infused with John's unique sense of wry humor, these stories take the reader along on a ride through John's experiences as a cab driver in Brockton, Mass during the late 1970s.
The stories are a mixture of the hilarious, odd, insightful, and sorrowful; introducing the reader to such characters as Black Laurel and Hardy, Captain Quaalude, and Mr. Magoo.

This is how one cab ride ended as John pulled up to an ER...
"An orderly, hearing the tires give up their remaining tread in an anguished squeal, ran out expecting a near death emergency arrival.
I jammed my driver seat forward and ran over to open Mom’s door. She got out calmly, I was anticipating a warm “thanks.”
She got hold of her purse. I figured to get the fare and a great tip. Instead, she starts beating me with it! Hard! I am 6′4′′ and she was able to hit me squarely on top of my head. She was going to nail me into the ground like a human spike!
She said, “I told you to get me to the hospital quickly, not to put me in it!” (as she rained beats down on me with her purse) Little Guy (her son) was hopping up and down saying “Can we do that again!?! That was unbelievable!” which made Mom angrier.
The orderly skidded to a stop, wondering if I was the bad guy, Mom was a maniac, or this might be some personal matter between two consenting adults, especially one (Mom) that weighed about 4 times what he did. He said nothing, did not come an inch closer. He seemed frozen in fear, a desire for personal safety, and a crushing curiosity to see how it played out."

This is how another cab ride ended after two guys considered robbing John...
"I got them to their destination in one piece. The fare was just under $10, blond threw me a twenty and said, "Keep it," as they fell over themselves in their hurry to get out. I didn’t even thank them for the tip, just acted as if I expected it. Like it was payment for the ‘joy ride.’
The last thing the black-haired guy said as the scrambled out. “I never met someone as nuts as you, man. Never!”
Blond goes, “You’re not safe, man. You’re nuts. You shouldn’t be f**kin’ driving!”
I looked at them with a bored, ‘do this all the time’ look and shrugged.
...
I radioed for Gary to get the cops. I gave the address, a description, and said the cops should be careful as at least one was armed."

Join John for other fares as he drives from experience to experience, wending his way through an incredible world of stories from his cab driving days.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Egan
• Release date: Dec 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463731208

John Egan

John Egan is a Sydney poet who also lives on the south coast of NSW. He was a high school teacher of English for twenty-two years and second master of Bankstown Grammar School for nine years. Later he taught English as a foreign language and university preparation courses at the University of NSW, Wollongong University College and Newcastle University, as well as English and Business Communication at JDW Business College. He retired in 2013. His first chapbook was published by the Melbourne Poets Union and Ginninderra Press have published four full collections, eighteen chapbooks and three collaborations. He considers himself a poet of memory and the sea, but also writes of the natural world, the urban environment and social issues.

Book preview

Taxi Cab Stories

John Egan

Taxi Cab Stories

Copyright © 2018 John Egan

Published by John Egan at Smashwords

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

eBook Edition: 2019: - v1 r2

Images included with this book:

Cover Image: www.pixabay.com/ image: 842341

Brockton Taxi Medallion: sourced from http://www.chauffeurbadges.com/85.html

Laurel & Hardy: copyright Hilton Teper

Mr. Magoo: copyright Classic Media 

Cecil Kellaway: Public Domain

Yellow Cab T-shirt Front: copyright 2018 John Egan

Yellow Cab T-shirt Rear: copyright 2018 John Egan

Cabs to Nowhere T-shirt Rear: copyright 2018 John Egan

US Half Dollar: Public Domain

All copyrighted material herein is the property of the respective copyright holders.

All product and company names used herein are trademarks™ or registered® trademarks of their respective holders. Use of them does not imply any affiliation with or endorsement by them. 

This book is primarily a work of nonfiction. The writer has used his best efforts to recollect the names, characters, places, businesses, conversations, and incidents represented herein; however, due to gaps in his memory, some aspects of the stories are fictionalized.

Table of Contents

Preface

Background

My Father Hated Cabbies

Cabby Driving Lessons

Introductions

First Day on the Job

Boy, Did I Pick the Wrong Job

Black Laurel & Hardy, Episode #1

Captain Quaalude

Intro to Capt. Q

I Meet Capt. Q

Tom Likes to Gamble

Off to the Horses

Sully's Bar

We Hate Yellow Cab (for good reason)

The Head Shop

Mr. Magoo the Banker

Introducing this Character

No Honor Amongst Thieves (er, Cabbies)

Sinking so Low

Redemption

Summer Doldrums

Black Laurel & Hardy, Episode #2

Sully's the Next Time

Capt. Q & Stoughton

Back to the Head Shop

Capt. Q & Cabs to Nowhere (Second Stoughton)

I don’t want to be a Virgin

Old, Poor, and Eating Cat Food

Bowling Pennies

Capt. Q goes to Falmouth... the last drive

Ripped off and Mad

Too Fast, Too Lucky

Too fast #1

Too Fast #2

Too Lucky, Too Many Times

Monday Night Football

Fall Comes to Brockton

Black Laurel & Hardy, Episode #3

I told you to get me to the hospital quickly, not put me in it! (as she beat me with her purse)

A Case of Bells Potatoes

Ever Been Robbed?

Scenes from Life

Fred and Mary

Sneakers in the Road

About the Author - John Egan

Preface

This collection of stories, from my time driving cab in Brockton, Mass during the late 70s, answers a question people have asked me many times over the years, What experiences did you have driving a cab? The stories are a mix of my own and the fares' experiences.

I have presented these stories as I recall them, with adjustments made for my aging memory and the need to recreate conversations. However, they are true for the most part. From David Crystal: Originally, in the 13th century, stories had to be true: the word was a synonym for 'history'—indeed, it came from the Latin word 'historia.' These stories are true, as well, for they are part of my history.

***

Driving a cab was a way to make a buck.

However, it was also a lot more. It was a means of seeing life through the fares’ stories. It was, as well, unrelentingly boring when there were no fares, constantly a demand to be hustling while avoiding accidents and the cops, and challenging to converse with fares vastly unlike myself.

Each fare entered my cab from some unknown pre-history, shared a slice of time and possibly some experiences with me, then went off to some unknown post-history.

I find my experiences with fares akin to an incident completely unrelated to taxi driving.

Late one night, about 20 years after I drove a cab, I was on the Interstate somewhere in the North Bronx. As happens frequently in the New York City area, traffic was at a standstill. It was raining and quite foggy, with swirls obstructing views more than fifty feet away. I sensed I was in for a long wait. I looked for things to occupy my mind. Turned on the radio - music was uninspiring, talk and news boring - turned it off. I gazed out the driver’s side window at nothing, my mind wandering far away. Abruptly, out of the rain and fog, a hulking commuter train roared up, sped past, and disappeared into the night fog. I had momentary glimpses of commuters talking together, sleeping, or reading while conductors walked along punching tickets. The train came from somewhere unknown and was going places unknown. Its passing was exactly what it was like to have a fare in my cab. Each fare entered my cab from somewhere; shared a moment and their thoughts, possibly; and then disappeared; very likely gone forever.

And, no two fares in a row were alike or connected, their stories starkly dissimilar.

That’s what it was like to drive a cab.

Please Enjoy.

John

P.S.: I have placed stories arbitrarily for flow; however, they’re in chronological order, generally.

P.P.S.: This is my first published book. I am not so vain as to think it’ll be a best seller; thus, I have kept my investment modest. The content, layout, and editing are my own; so, the myriad things people find fault with in these pages belong to me.

Background

In the late 70s, Brockton was an old faded dress of a city, once famous for shoe and other manufacturing. At that time, Brockton was transitioning from its manufacturing base and middle-class whites to being primarily a bedroom city of whites at the outskirts, the poor and those of African descent in the center. It was a city struggling.

Hard drugs were a major problem at that time. Sadly, I hear they are more so now.

That was the state of Brockton when I drove there.

***

When I started driving cab, Brockton had only one cab company, Yellow Cab.

Unbeknownst to me before they hired me, most of Yellow’s customers disliked the company for its arrogance, high fares, and dirty jalopy cabs. Most of Yellow’s evening drivers detested the company and their fares. And, these drivers were the sort of guys you would not want your child (wife, girlfriend, or sister) to ever be alone with…

While I grew up not too far from Brockton, I had only been there a handful of times. Getting a job driving cab was a challenge - I had never driven a cab, didn’t know the streets, the places to stay away from, nor the types of people I’d have as fares. Oh, I was (and still am) an introvert.

***

My Father Hated Cabbies

I held off telling my father I got the job for good reason. My father’s opinion of cabbies… ‘low lifes,’ barely above women in the driver hierarchy (women, but not his daughters, at the bottom). My driving cab would be another strike against me in his eyes.

In Boston one day, as he was teaching me to drive when I was about 16, I pulled up behind a cab at a red light. My father positioned his hand over the horn and slammed it down as soon as the light turned green. I asked why he did this. Because I hate these guys. They beep their horn at drivers ahead of them when a light turns green, don’t give the other guy a chance. They drive recklessly. Don’t follow the law. They rob passengers. Never trust a cabby and never give them a break. They deserve whatever they get. Being a dutiful son, my bias toward cabbies tilted to dislike. I figured I’d never be a cabby, especially knowing my father’s opinion.

***

My father was a take no prisoners type of driver. His approach fit perfectly with Boston driving.

Stay in your lane. Don’t give a cabby or woman a break. You punish any bad driver. You are justified in this because they are terrible drivers and shouldn’t be on the road. (I have come to call this the avenging angel driver mentality)

Dad didn’t like my driving. He felt I was not aggressive enough, gave others too many breaks, and relinquished the right of way too often. While I was learning to drive, he once said, You drive like a woman … a berating that truly rankled, given his drivers’ hierarchy with women at the bottom.

Away from him, as a young, testosterone driven guy I enjoyed driving aggressively. When alone, I would push my driving skills and vehicle to the limit, especially down the most challenging (but deserted) roads.

However, before I drove cab, I was a conservative driver when I had passengers. A year or two after getting my license I drove my father into Boston. Traffic was difficult and I drove conservatively. He complained about my tentativeness. I cringed, expecting a woman driver pronouncement. I figured it best I preempt him. I told him to, Calm down, I'm the one driving and driving my way. He shut up, realizing I was going my own path regardless of his opinion. He was not happy.

Unfortunately, I never drove him around like I drove when I was a cabby… he would have been scared shitless, but proud.

Cabby Driving Lessons

When I started driving cab I quickly realized time is money and hustling pays off. So, fast cab driving for me was a mandatory requirement. The fact that the cab I drove was a roving wreck and not mine, meant no concerns over accidents, other than I might hurt someone else.

I learned many lessons driving cab that remain with me today.

#1 - When driving an automatic, use two feet to drive. Left foot barely off the brake, right foot always ready to push the gas pedal down. This allows for faster driving and faster braking. It saved my life and several others a few times by shaving a quarter to half-second off my reaction time. However, never rest your left foot on the brake. It keeps the brake lights on, driving those behind you nuts; it overheats the brakes so they will not grip well; and it is purely sloppy driving. Don’t be sloppy.

#2 - Traffic lights are mechanical, stupid advisory signals. When in a hurry to get or drop a fare, it is stupid to sit for 30–60 seconds at a red light when there is no traffic. However, make sure no one, especially police, will see you. When I drove cab traffic cams were not yet invented, they make it tougher to follow this rule. Yellow lights mean speed up unless you believe you won’t make the intersection in time.

#3 - Cops hate cabbies. Cabbies and they seem incompatible, mostly for no reason. Some cops will pull over a cabby for five miles over the speed limit, for going through a yellow light, and for any vehicle issue (even though the cab doesn’t belong to the cabby). But… if you get on the cops’ good side through tips on shady characters and general bullshitting with them when stuck at red lights together or in a coffee shop, it pays off.

#4 - Never trust any other driver. Generally, they are stupid, ignorant, arrogant, and sloppy. They put on turn signals and go the opposite way, they never use signals in time to warn they are turning, they rarely pay attention to those in other lanes behind them, and they never plan ahead. They’re sole ‘just in time’ drivers making random moves as their neurons fire telling them to immediately turn, stop, etc. Defensive driving is only the half of it. In the real world of cab driving, you must be prepared for anything at any time from other drivers.

#5 - Intersections with all-way stop signs or no stop signs are first come, first serve, unless you go back to rule #4… be ready to go first if you got there first, but don’t trust the brainless idiots driving the other vehicles. If another driver got there first, but hesitates, then go! The old adage He who hesitates is lost has morphed into He who hesitates has lost his right to go in this situation. But, keep an eye on the hesitater… they may decide to go before their brain realizes you are already going first. So, be ready to honk the horn, and be ready to swerve in a pre-planned direction, yet try not to stop… of course. And, left foot always ready at the brake.

#6 - Always have an escape route when driving. Constantly update your options to avoid an accident, idiot, etc., as you drive. It becomes automatic once you start doing it. If you do, you shave decision-making time off your reactions and may save your life or someone else’s. It is a tough thing for many 'just in time' drivers to do, but they ought to. I have many tales of saving me or someone else because of this.

#7 - Pay full attention to the road while yapping away with a fare, or any passenger. Unless the cab is stopped, never turn to look at a fare, never stare at them in the mirror. (for one ride I violated this rule nearly the whole time, but claim circumstances warranted it. You can judge later) Driving is priority number one, the conversation, schmoozing, etc., is a distant number two, no matter what the