Articles by Alex Sack


Already, I have left the house five minutes late. And this is NOT trivial, folks. This has SERIOUS implications with respect to the numbers of Audis and BMWs that I will be contending with in the battle for Gough!


Tuesday 4:00am: “Bloooop… Bloooop… Bloooop… Bloooop…” My generic iPhone Harp alarm-tone eases me into the day. (Well, sorta.) You see, I set my alarm forty-five minutes early this morning, on account of…


It’s 5:45 in the a.m. and I’m rolling the Castro of San Francisco, in Citizen’s Cab 2976, my eyes peeled for flags the likes of late night stragglers, and early morning Mexicans headed across town to their dish washing jobs.


Okay… I lied about last week’s “quitting cab driving” assertion. (Sue me.) It’s just that I can’t seem to shake this martyrdom thing. Besides, surely SOMEONE out there needs a jump star……


I’ve been having some weird sepia-tone dreams this past week. They’ve all involved escaping from one or some other long, drawn-out, violent and bloody urban drama. I don’t know if it’s the…


It’s Wednesday, my day off. But, I still have some taxi business to take care of. You see, a couple weeks ago I made a doctor’s appointment with California Pacific Medical Center;…


Apparently, a politically-active firecracker we know named Tyler (works for Luxor Cab) was involved in a high speed chase around Union Square. It was with some rich kids come in from the ‘burbs of Marin


Things are chill, at present. It’s Father’s Day. The TV is off. And the boy is away at Boy Scout camp. I’m just laying around, horizontal on the couch, staring at a…


I have a theory, about why San Francisco is so… unhinged. When I lived back east, you would commonly come across a guy on the streets of the Lower East Side wearing…


Tuesday 5:15am: Crooks, the disgraced ex-cab driver who lost his A-card after getting busted committing Paratransit fraud by keeping passenger’s cards and later swiping fake rides – who has since been driving…


I’ve been binge watching the Discovery Channel’s Naked and Afraid lately, on Sundays. It’s a reality show about two strangers, a man and a woman, meeting for the first time naked on some godforsaken snake and insect-infested corner of the earth


For those of you who have expressed concern, or worry, as to my mental state over my last few reports from the road, I beg to assure you that I feel I am coming back from the brink. Backing out of a dead end alley, you might say… Of late,


I’m out in the lot and just starting to prep and sanitize ‘ol 137. I go to log-in to the tablet and come to note that it’s stuck on some half glowing black screen, with a single line of gibberish yellow lettering displayed in the lower left corner.


I’m rolling the Fillmore strip up in well-to-do Pac Heights. And I cruise by the usual suspects; cops, affluent retirees – with their Golden Retrievers, and mansion contractors


I live across the street from the West Side projects of San Francisco, in an old three flat Victorian. You can still see remnants of the gas flame chandelier in the living room ceiling, from the turn of the century.


The early morning has played out dead. Not one ride. And the worry about the coffee stain has been supplanted with worry over my career.


There is a solitude in driving a cab. Your co-workers are the citizens of your town, as well as those just in for a short visit…


You cut me off, HARD, as I was crossing Mission Street on MY green. But you were sure to make quick eye contact through your shiny wraparounds first. And that curl on the corner of your smug face… Was that a smirk?



Rolling up on a dark, quiet, residential 463 Eureka, I witness what looks like the soft glow of a taxi top-light, slowly coming into focus… It is a taxi top-light. And it’s attached to another taxi. One that’s waiting right in front of my order.


Barnes, “No, sir. I’m a Christian. Marijuana is not allowed. I have a prescription for Oxycontin, which I need to re-up.” Barnes continues, “What with all of my ailments, my REAL problem is where I live. It messes with my head.


It always starts with the weather. But don’t be fooled. It’s like that glee club retreat back in high school, where everyone’s in the main lodge cabin seated all Indian-style…


5am, and the magic “Start” button on 137 brings her display panel beeping to life out in the lot of ‘ol Citizen’s Cab. I hold my breath as my Prius taxi’s gas…


I began writing these taxi stories a few years ago as a way of keeping in touch with my aging, published author mother back on the east coast; to let her know what’s been going on in my life.