Taxi Driver

Today I had to get a taxi to work. The local company has recently implemented automatic number recognition software. This means when you call up it recognises your number and also the name(s) used to book a previous taxi. I tend to use the names “Adam Ski” and “Michael Carmichael” when booking cabs and it always makes me giggle hearing a computerised voice relaying the message “Hello Michael Carmichael, please press 1 to be picked up from…”

Anyhow, I was waiting outside when the wagon approached. A wagon was probably the most succinct description I could give it as the car was an old Volvo Estate. I got in and turned to my right to be greeted by the friendly old face of a taxi driver. He was wearing a flap cap with his bushy white hair shooting out from all sides. On closer inspection he had bushy white hair shooting out of his nostrils and ear holes too. At this point I shivered and told him to take me to work.

Within a few metres down the road he starts telling me about himself. How, he’s lived in this area for 15 or so years. How his children have grown up and don’t like him anymore. I didn’t mind him opening up his heart at 8:57 in the morning, what I did mind was that when he spoke he’d turn and face me, enticing my eyes to make contact with his while all I did was look ahead at the road blearily, when...

“Shit, look out”. I yelled.

The driver turned his attentions back to the road and swerved at the roundabout just missing an oncoming car from the right.

“F… didn’t indicate” He shouted.

‘Didn’t indicate. You weren’t looking at the road.’ I thought.

The driver turned back to me and squinted his friendly eyes as he smiled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you there”

A little uncomfortable with the sudden rush of adrenaline at that time of the morning I decided to ask him the usual cliché question.

“So what time did you start?”

Still staring he rubbed his hat and leaned forward.

“I started at 6 and will finish at 2am tomorrow night”

Now 2 am on Friday night/Saturday morning means you’re likely to be working around town. This involves dealing with an outpour of inebriated end-of-week revellers desperate to go home. More often than not things are fine but it is known that some of them will vomit in the car, try and run away before paying or just end up mugging the driver.

My eyes widen at this enlightenment and this time I did turn to meet his stare. He must have been in his late 60’s, around 5 ft 5 and quite slow at changing gears. In fact he’d always jerk as he struggled with the gearstick. Pity started to spread through as he’d have no chance against a group of males looking to get away with not paying.

“You don’t work up town during Friday night do you?” I asked dismissively.

“Of course I do young man. You get the most money from those people.” He told me.

I couldn’t believe this man wouldn’t be taken advantage of. He had a podgy friendly face and seemed very effusive.

“But don’t you think it’s dangerous” I replied.

“Dangerous? Huh.”

He then swung his head backwards so that I looked towards the back of his seat. There behind the seat was a baseball bat protruding out the bottom. He then pulled up into a bus stop and deftly swings it out from beneath him.

“You see, this bat can cause damage. But the nails I have hammered in will cause pain. No trouble.”

Slipping the bat back under the seat he drives off again leaving me sitting there not knowing where to look. His stature and looks were a deceptive feature and my hands became sweaty as I imagined he didn’t like to be paid in a £20 note and swung his club of nails right across my face demanding a lower denomination or else!

“That’ll be £7 please.”

“What, oh yeah, we’re here. I’ve only got a £20, I hope that’s ok?”

He nodded and handed over the change.

As I left the car he wished me a good day and once again squinted his peepers as he showed off his missing teeth. I just walked into work thinking I wonder who’ll stupidly cross his path tonight.


Well, after a few weeks off I've finally thought about which direction to move the progressive prose I've grown over the months. Here's my latest contribution.


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…

“I don’t know if I’m all right. To be honest it hasn’t sunk in yet, the impact is just waiting in my mind, waiting for the moment to completely flush all other thoughts out and take over my life.”
…
“She stole from me. Bottom line.”
…
“I caught her Keith, it wasn’t rumour. I came home after my shift yesterday, I didn’t think anyone was in but I heard a noise from my room. I knew Tommy was out so I quietly ran into the kitchen and grabbed the bread knife. I went upstairs and saw her stuffing our rent money into her purse.

“It broke my heart to see her stealing from me. After I was accused by our landlord for stealing money from the rent collection, she knew how annoyed I was about being accused stealing it. Tommy wasn’t even considered of anything and he’s the one who spends the end of his month scampering round and chasing up people so that he has enough money to pay for rent. It was a real blow to my confidence as I study all day and work most nights I’m not the sort of person who would sneak around trying to find money round the house. And Karen knew all this, I told her that I was going to be evicted unless the money could be found. She saw me almost in tears as I racked my brains to find out where the money had gone and all the time she was the one who took it. I feel so betrayed.”

…

“ I was absolutely shocked mate, I ran up the stairs almost stumbling over them as I was hell bent on catching whoever was in the house, I wanted to smash this robber’s face in, I don’t know if I would have used the knife but I wanted to mess him up. And then I saw that it wasn’t a him it was a her. It was my girlfriend, the person I though I loved, the person who knew what I was feeling and she stole from me.”

…

“Yeah she tried to tell me what she was doing, but I saw it all. I saw her putting the money in her bag, stashing it at a frantic pace. There was a few moments when she didn’t notice me and when she did she started crying and trying to let me let her explain. I wasn’t going to do that, I was too angry and feeling betrayed. I told her to give back the money and get out. She started pleading to me to let her explain, she threw her self at me but I just couldn’t stand the sight of her and told her to go. And as she left, she even bloody well asked if I was going to tell the police. I told her no, but only because she’s going to give back the money she already took from Tommy and me. She carried on blubbering and then eventually said she would.

…

Yeah, I’m meeting her early this morning after my shift ends. She says she has the money.

…

No I haven’t heard her side, I don’t want to. What justification can she give to me? I haven’t got time for her now. Look I gotta go as my break is up. We should meet up for a beer tonight?

…

“Uh huh.”

…

“No worries, I’ll ring you later, and thanks for listening.”

Yannish puts the phone back in his pocket and flicks the slowly extinguishing cigarette to the ground only to quickly pick it realising that he no longer should do this. He walks through the bushes and out of sight.