Literature/Poetry

It’s Monday, around 10am. The dead time for taxi driving in San Francisco, or most places I would guess. Everyone’s settled in their cubicle now, filling out spreadsheets and counting down the…


Rolling the empty pre-dawn streets in ‘ol Citizen’s Cab 1015, it’s like old times. Karl’s back. (Karl the Fog, for those not following him on Twitter.) While San Francisco is known for…



Didn’t drive Monday. I tried, hard. Real hard. But I didn’t sleep at all Sunday night. I kept tossing and turning in bed while envisioning potential road rage incidents and the possibility of plowing into some jaywalker challenging my taxi on the streets of San Francisco.


It’s 4:10 in the A.M., and I’m rolling the Gough gauntlet in my van towards the Citizen’s Cab lot. But this three lane thoroughfare all downhill to the highway, with its timed lights, is proving no gauntlet on this early Monday morning.



In hack news, the taxi biz has been okay this past week. Your driver scored three airports on Thursday, and was nicely busy outside of that to the tune of $245! This, as successfully avoiding the marijuana celebratory hajj on the Haight that is 420 Day.


Good Friday It’s been kind of a mind fuck driving a taxi around one of the richest cities in the country, San Francisco, these past seven years. Introspecting in the early morning,…


Over the many long rides we’ve shared together, you have read much ado from your driver about his introduction to this “lively” street vocation by way of cab school, of his cab school teacher Rose, and her Ten Commandments.


Citizen’s Cab 1015 is driving me aimless across a ghostly quiet San Francisco predawn. There’s a nowadays rare fog (thanks, global warming) blanketing the Marina district down here. And KCSM 91.1FM – The Bay Area’s Jazz station – and Artie Shaw’s St. James Infirmary sets the mood


It’s getting dangerous to take a ride in San Francisco these days, to be a passenger in Citizen’s Cab 1015… 9:30am: I’m rolling east up Market away from downtown, empty out of…


My four-day class at Cab Driver Institute is here, housed up three flights in a worn-down, antiquated former union building imbued with the soft squeal of a (hopefully) broken burglar alarm that wafts through the air. The elevator is slow to the shared office space where Rose runs her show.


I’m rolling west up Market fresh from a Financial drop. Well, semi-fresh. I’ve made it all the way up past Westfield Mall and am straddling the Loin, with all of its dregs.



It’s 4:30 in the am, and Tony is sending me darting out of the office with an order up in Holly Park, a residential hood not far from the Citizen’s Cab lot…


It’s 2:45 in the PM and I’m rolling a Citizen’s Cab spare, 2402, down Fillmore fresh from a fruitless jaunt through Pac Heights. As my day shift winds down, I’ll continue working these well-off commercial strips


As I cruise past the bustling crack and meth scene on 16th Street here, mixed in amongst a seemingly endless sprawl of tents, tarps and bicycle parts, I roll down into the Mission, on a mission…