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 would seem that this morning is “Friday lite,” as they say. “SLOW AS FUCK!!!” I would phrase it as, personally. I’ve been out cruising the streets of San Francisco in Citizen’s…
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…
It’s Monday here in Citizen’s Cab world, my first day back on the job after a crazy weekend that saw the entire world protesting Herr Presidente’s Muslim ban at many of the major airports. Taxi drivers in New York (comprised of many a Muslim) were on strike over at JFK.
By the grace of God, and/or Mother Nature, I’ve been doing quite well working Citizen’s Cab 1015 over the last couple of weeks, what with all of the cold and rain that’s descended over the Bay Area.
I’m traversing the streets, en route to the Citizen’s Cab lot to pick up my taxi, out on the industrial edge of town. And there is torrential rain, downed trees and flooding… BAD!
It’s noon, and a little cold out. But with clear beautiful skies above San Francisco. We’ve got a respite from the torrential rains, before they’re set to start again early in the week.
As presented to you passengers on my last report, it’s a new year for your driver, with a new taxi. (Sorta.)
It’s a new year. And Citizen’s Cab #26 is no more. Her medallion holder jumped ship over to DeSoto. And the mechanics magically transformed Citizen’s Cab #26, my trusty ‘ol Prius, into Citizen’s Cab #1015.
Twas the Monday before Christmas, not just any given morn, with Citizen’s Cab 26 cruising a San Francisco left forlorn.
You see, since Jesus retired, Tony’s been pulling double-duty in also writing the schedule. And every year around this time, there’s been a dance I’ve had to do with management.
Thursday Rain, fog and drizzle fill the predawn San Francisco streets… and the mind of one driver rolling Citizen’s Cab #26. I’ve been empty for an hour and a half now, as…
The air is chilly on this early, quiet San Francisco morn. The seasonal cold wet blast which creeps annually down from the north has officially arrived.
A San Francisco cabbie has to make the decision whether to get up butt ass early to gamble on some prodigal son heading to the airport trying to make it home to L.A. in time for the festivities, or sleep in.
Detour Passengers, I’m down with the flu, folks. And there’s been a cold rain and grey clouds hovering over San Francisco in recent days – both figuratively and literally. So, your driver…
Eh, if I’m gonna be up, I might as well work. Despite its 4:15 medallion, I suspect my beautiful Prius, Citizen’s Cab #26, will be at the lot waiting idle and lonely for its driver. Me.
Thursday Noon: I’m rolling west up Market, empty, in Citizen’s Cab #26, when, “DING!” My iPhone chimes with an IM… Hey! It’s Christian! Note: Best friend, Spermula band mate, and fellow (albeit,…
It’s 3:15am, on any given weekday. I’m laid out on the couch in my living room after one too many beers last night. (If one could say it is even “today.”)
It’s Saturday, my day off from ‘ol Citizen’s Cab. And the spawn are off busy with their mom and Uncle – who’s visiting from Texas. So, alone, I biked over to the annual Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival set so sublime amidst San Francisco’s crown jewel, Golden Gate Park.
It’s an old black gentleman, with clean, pressed blue jeans, a pressed khaki jacket, and a stiff, clean Army Vet baseball cap. He’s waving his cane slow and casual, as standing beside a pressed reusable plastic bag, and a nice tan leather shoulder bag.
I grab my girl’s key and 3:45 medallion from the pegboard myself – Prius #26, as Tony is busy by the register sliding another key and medallion under the bullet-proof glass, through the metal tray, to some newbie driver who’s standing outside the window.
Well, Alex has been a good boy. He’s been consistently rolling into the Citizen’s Cab lot around 4:15am, and bringing it back just before 26’s 3:45pm pumpkin time. And it seems the shoe fits. Alex is making a living.