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.


















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