Lessons in lucky

I often wonder why I do this friggin’ job, lousy as it is. On dropping the cab off after an indifferent Friday night I was about as shitty as can be. Scammed out of a fare on the very last job. Then on gassing-up being greeted by an overnight price rise from 39.9 cents per litre to 49.9 cents. However within the time it takes to start my car and warm it up, I was feeling on top of the world again.

Early in the evening I was hailed by a silver crutch, on Elizabeth Street down at Central Railway. Hanging to its end was a one-legged fella balancing precariously on a second crutch. In attempting to attract my attention he swayed violently, threatening to topple off the footpath and into oncoming traffic. Such was his problem of finding a cab on a Friday night.

From a distance I wondered if he was a drunken hobo for this locality was a favourite haunt for drifters. Down under Sharpies famous neon golf sign, outside the tattoo parlour. Grim Street. I stopped, with traffic on my tail. Clambering in the front seat he cursed viciously on entangling the crutch poles with a grocery bag...

‘Thanks mate’, he said when finally settled, ‘just a short fare up Albion Street to Crown. Sorry but I'll be buggered if I’m walking up that hill...‘Yeah, I understand’, I told him and slowly took off. ‘Walking down was hard enough’, he continued, ‘but I ain’t walking back up the bastard’.

We stopped on Riley for a red light and I looked across to size him up. He was older than I first thought, hard weathered and well into his fifties. Whilst he was a lively character, I elected to forgo a tempting question, ‘Have you got a wardrobe full of single shoes..?’. But then why beat around the bush.

‘What happened to your leg ?’, I asked. ‘Bike !’, he fired back, looking straight ahead. ‘How long ago’, I pressed. ‘34 years’ he replied. ‘Got a spare ?’, I asked. ‘Yeah, an artificial one’, he said. ‘But I don’t like using it’. ‘Ever thought about one of those electric buggies’, I queried as we pulled over on Crown Street. ‘Not yet’, he replied, ‘but I’ll be needing one in a couple of years’. ‘How so’, I stupidly asked. ‘Cause I’m getting arthritis in the shoulders from these bloody crutches'.

The meter showed $3.80 and he had the coins ready. ‘Don’t worry about it’, I told him dismissively, ‘it’s nuthin’. ‘You sure..?’, he offered. ‘Forget about it’. ‘Well’, he said opening the door, ‘I’ll take whatever I can get’. ‘Why not mate’, I agreed, ‘everyone else does. Good luck to you’. He deserved it.

Later around 11pm three classy women, anxiously standing on the corner of Oxford Street and Darlinghurst Road, spotted me and hustled to the cab. They were in their early to mid thirties and pissed as parrots. As they climbed aboard laughing and yelling I prepared for the worst.

After nominating Queen Street in Woollahra the front seat passenger boomed, ‘And how are you tonight, driver ?’. Having gone into immediate ‘dead-pan’ mode I quietly replied, ‘Have you been drinking ?’. ‘Yes !’, she squealed, ‘and we’re very drunk !’. With that they launched into a tune, which one decided was from Tears for Fears. ‘You can’t touch that - baby !’, they chanted.

Which was kind of tragic because five minutes later, we were stopped for lights at Queen and Ocean Street when the front seat woman announced, ‘This place on the corner used to be an abortion clinic’. She paused before adding, ‘I know cause I used it once’.

The sad irony of their Tears for Fears tune was maybe lost on them as her friends sought to offer misguided comfort, ‘Well, if that was your decision at the time babe, then that‘s where you..’, ‘No it’s not that’, she cut in, ‘the place was fine - it’s just dealing with that whole negative energy thing...that thing about abortion’.

We pulled up around the corner at their destination. As she paid the fare her friend continued, ‘Well babe, you shouldn’t be stressed....’, which was drunkenly and airily dismissed with, ‘No, of course I’m not ! I’ve had five..’, and she hopped out. It takes a lot to shock me but I was stunned.

Late on Fridays smart drivers wisely kill their Vacant lights in order to carefully pick and choose their passengers. Groups of men - pass. Swaying young females - pass. Anyone supporting street signs - pass. And so it goes. Around 1 am I choose a single fella at Darling Harbour, Pyrmont. I spotted him first and was pulling in when he hailed me late.

Hopping in the front he asked for an area in north-west Sydney. When given a choice on the route he said he had no idea. On showing him the relevant map he revealed he’d didn’t have his glasses with him. Yet he exhibited a courteous and deferential manner as he bashfully apologised, explaining he was a visitor to Sydney.

On watching him explain this I recognised a familiar facial expression. An expression which didn’t focus on me as he squinted around the eyes. He had pronounced and darkened, sunken eye sockets. ‘Are you blind..?’, I gently asked. ‘Yes, pretty much’, he replied with a smile and rapidly blinking eyes. ‘What percentage ?’, I asked. ‘Aw, pretty bad without my glasses’, he said. ‘Can you see that car up ahead ?’, I inquired of a vehicle only 30 metres ahead of us. ‘Well, I can see red lights’, he replied. ‘But can you tell it’s a taxi ?’, ‘Nah’, he laughed.

As he was quietly spoken I wound up the windows in order to eliminate the road noise of eight lanes, on crossing the Harbour Bridge. Something about the saga of his broken glasses didn’t make sense. The lens, or was it the frame, had broken on arriving in Sydney. He'd left a spare pair at home, back in rural Victoria. Plus he couldn’t temporarily repair the broken pair. Whilst he was quite vague about the problem, he was also equanimous regarding being without sight for a week in Sydney. I changed the subject.

‘So what did you do tonight, anything interesting ?’, I asked. ‘Well I went for dinner and drinks with a girl I know’, he said. Being a nosey cabbie I asked, ‘How was it ?’. ‘Aw, not very good’, he replied, followed by a nervous, ‘Heh, heh... She’s was upset with me’. ‘Why ?’, I asked. ‘Aw, she’s been upset with me for a while’. ‘So what happened to her’, I probably shouldn’t have asked, given he mumbled something incoherent. ‘Pissed off, eh ?’, I suggested, yet thinking, bitch. ‘Yeah’, he said, ‘Luckily, the bouncer on the door showed me where to wait for a taxi’. Indeed, on a Friday night he may well have waited for hours.

We drove in silence for a bit and I considered the broken glasses. I wondered if he had elected not to wear them for the night. Given his lack of sight, I figured they probably looked like the bottoms of Coke bottles. So why wouldn’t he leave them at home. A handsome bloke on a date would be super conscious of them.

‘Mate’, I told him, ‘Sydney women are really different. You probably think they’re from another planet !’. ‘Sure do’, he laughed, ‘Country girls are much easier to deal with. They are really direct and down to earth’. Then much to his amazement, I told him of the three women I’d carried earlier to Woollahra.

We arrived in his street only to find he couldn’t remember the street number where he was staying. As we drove up and down the road, I rattled off various landmarks, one of which was a major Deaf and Blind Institute. Briefly I wondered why it was not the Hearing and Visually Impaired Institute. Maybe that politically-correct terminology is just for inner-City types.

Finally we found the particular brick fence of his friends house. Somehow he produced the correct notes and coins, I guess by touch, wished me good luck and hopped out. As he entered the front garden an automatic light was triggered and I watched him jauntily bounce up the two-step landing to the front door. What a guy. With his lovely positive attitude, not once had he displayed any disappointment over an unsuccessful evening.

On slowly departing it struck me why I do this lousy job. To remind me of the benefits of things like having two legs, a child and decent vision. When I forget how lucky I am.

Comments

[billlyryan]

I LOVE this blog!!!!!! I'm coming to Melbourne in March, too bad I can't catch a ride in your cab!

[James]

I think I've said it before, but I totally agree with billyryan. You're up there near the top, mate. I've got alot of respect for ya!

[randwickbelle]

your a very nice man Adrian.

[adrian]

Thanks folk for the encouraging praise. What I elected to omit was the 'blind' fella had a MA in Law. Coupled with a lovely disposition, I would have thought he'd be a good catch for any girl. If I was a girl, I'd marry him !

[Noswonky]

As a bird lover, I object to your disparaging comment about parrots.