Cablog

Trees

Growing up in Sydney one could stand on a suburban hilltop and the vista was a sea of red roofs. Do the same thing now and it's all green tree cover. Fair enough, but when did trees become more important than people?

How can elderly folk like my mother be allowed to fall and break a shoulder when the council neglected to repair a broken footpath, constantly damaged by tree roots, rather than chop the bloody thing down?

Why is it that driving around residental areas at night one regularly needs high beam due to overgrown tree foliage reducing the effectiveness of street lighting, often rendered useless?

Trees; I'm over them.

Bailey

On Monday afternoon before the rush hour started, I was driving round in circles like everyone else when ABC radio host Richard Glover introduced Bill Bailey. Along with Stephen Fry Bailey is one of Britain’s funniest comedians. So I headed down to the ABC headquarters on the off-chance he would need a taxi.

Toward the end of the interview Bailey related how he enjoyed the challenge of touring to new audiences. How sceptical American patrons unfamiliar with his work would sit impassively, waiting for the jokes. On air, Bailey mimicked them perfectly, “Okay, buddy, you’ve got five minutes. Make me laugh.”

Shortly afterwards Bailey emerged from the building accompanied by two other people, probably his local agent and publicist. Unfortunately, though, they headed past me to a waiting mini van in front and my chance for an interesting passenger was gone.

On the spur of the moment I called after him, “Oi!” As he turned I raised a hand with fingers spread and said with a straight face, “You’ve got five minutes.”

His eyes flickered and for an instant his face broke into that disturbed, puzzled look for which he is famous. Catching himself he quickly turned and boarded the van, probably thinking cabbie gits are to be avoided at all costs.

No matter, I was cackling for the rest of the shift just at the thought of his wonderfully expressive face. In the following example he uses the device to great effect playing Manny in Black Books...

Further viewing: Bailey on Australia.

Trust

(A welcome talking point after an embarrassing disagreement with passengers)

Passengers sometimes have good reason to hate cabbies. Sometimes they don’t. Early on Saturday evening I refused to be hoodwinked by three young women and a bloke. After arguing over $1.20 each, one person loudly exclaimed, “Oh, I hate taxi drivers.”

Upon accepting a radio booking in Darling Point, possibly Australia’s most exclusive ‘old money’ suburb, I arrived at a well-lit mansion and notified base. After a few minutes there was no sign of movement so I started the meter, as I was entitled to.

Soon a young fella came out and informed me that I was ten minutes early. “Mate, we booked you for 7:15.” I told him there was no booking time on the job details but I’d happily wait for them, with a ticking meter, of course. He grumbled how it was my fault and he wouldn’t pay the waiting time, then headed back inside.

Finally the party emerged and one woman immediately demanded, “Can you please restart the meter. This job was booked for 7:15.” I refused and suggested cancelling the booking altogether. There was plenty of other work around. So a hurried discussion took place outside the cab but they had no other choice due to the high demand, leading to the aforementioned remark.

Once aboard the woman and fella whinged how they shouldn’t have to pay waiting time when the company stuffed up the booking, blah, blah, blah. Then he requested I contact the base and confirm a second taxi ordered for the remainder of their party. This was his downfall.

When the radio operator revealed the second taxi had been cancelled their story looked shaky. So I asked what time my taxi had been booked for. The reply came loud and clear, “I’ve got seven o’clock here.” I thanked the operator and waited for an explanation from the insistent protestors.

However the young fella maintained the booking was for 7:15, before adding, “But I didn’t make the booking.” Huh? “Well,” I inquired, “how can you be so sure about the booking time?” There was an awkward pause before the demanding woman admitted, “Um, I made the booking.” The subject quickly changed and nothing more was said about it. Surprisingly, though, there was no offer of an apology.

And people claim they don’t trust cabbies. Why, we’re even more trustworthy than some of our biggest critics, politicians and journalists.

Groovy

Here's the current edition of City Weekly featuring a cover story on Sydney taxis with comment from a couple of drivers including yours truly, drunk, on vacation.

Hit this link for one of the grooviest digital media sites around. I want their web designer! 

UPDATE: NYC taxi photo is by a New York cab blogger who has been kind enough to link Cablog in a wide ranging post, Around the Taxi Blogsphere. Hit that link for an update on various cab bloggers around the world. In other bloggie news I'm currently mourning last month's departure of sassy and hilarious Sydney blog, Much Ado about sumthin!

Fear

This is part of an interview earlier this year for JJJ's Hack with Ronan Sharkey...

In the space of an hour last weekend, a full moon, I ejected two passengers. The first, an obnoxious Irish woman who complained of travelling the world alone, decided she’d blow up the radio speakers whilst flicking coins at me.

The next evictee was a strung out nutter who boarded on Crown Street. Surry Hills. My first mistake was stopping after he suddenly emerged from the dark with a late hail. When he climbed in the front seat his short cropped hair and oversized army coat screamed Travis Bickle.

“Darlinghurst Road,” he requested without acknowledging me or making eye contact. I suspected trouble and decided to test him.  When I inquired which block, he replied, “Where did I say?” It sounded like he’d already forgotten where he was going. Great.

I told him, “Mate, I’ll take you to the start of Darlo Road and you can show me.” By then I’d decided that no way were we leaving Darlinghurst Road for some dodgy side street late on a Sunday night. Then he caught me with a surprise question which changed everything.

Looking straight ahead he quietly asked, “How long have you had the power?” For some reason this triggered an exchange I once had with a homeless guy whilst working at the Matthew Talbot hostel. He’d challenged me with, “Are you Jeremiah, son of the third prophet?” Then, it was tempting to quip, “Nup, but I know his brother, Jimmy Myer.” Of course he was sick puppy like my passenger and demanded serious attention.

Stopping for a red light I answered, “Mate, we’ll get you to Darlinghurst Road, no worries.” Now he turned to me and I saw his cold, sunken eyes. “You don’t need to get agro," he intoned, "I just wonder why you’re using this power on me.” Instinctively my hand felt for the screwdriver in the door pocket.

We were only three blocks from police headquarters, I figured, then spotted a patrol car waiting across the intersection. I hit the hazards and flashed him with the high beam a few times. The cop waved me over to the corner.

After telling the cop the passenger was freaking me out he was ordered out of the cab. When he hesitated the cop, clearly annoyed by the intrusion, yelled from his seat, "Don't make me come over there-get_out_of_the_taxi!" I thanked him and left, leaving the clown pleading his innocence with the copper. Idiot.

Further reading: Sydney cabbie robbed with syringe.

Kissing X

There I was on Saturday night carrying a male and female passenger, both aged around thirty, when the woman asked him, “Have you ever been in love with an actress?”

Prior to this I had one ear on the Olympic broadcast introducing the men’s 100 metre sprint final and one ear on their conversation. They were discussing an actor friend, let’s call him Bruce, who had jagged a lead role in a forthcoming movie opposite a major Hollywood actress, 'X'.

The male passenger sitting up front stated the bleeding obvious, “Every bloke in the industry would give his eye tooth to land that role.” The woman agreed, “Yeah, it’s a fantastic opportunity for Bruce...though he will be kissing 'X'. I mean, what if they fall in love?” This query was delivered with a certain anxiousness which I failed to recognise at the time.

By way of reassurance her friend offered, “Well, you know, it doesn’t really mean anything...it's just tongues locking.” However she seemed unconvinced and asked, “Have you ever been in love with an actress?” When he responded in the negative there was an awkward pause whilst we waited for a red light. So I stupidly chipped in, “I have.”

She then asked how I dealt with my girlfriend kissing other men. I blithely suggested it was all part of creating a character and building a role, falsely implying it was no big deal. Then carelessly added, “But she once told me that in major productions all leading ladies sleep with their leading men, first thing, during rehearsals. It’s the best method of getting the chemistry right.”

To make such a statement, though, without qualification was reckless due to said girlfriend occasionally confusing fantasy with reality. Thus it may have been true or it may have been rubbish.

So when my passenger audibly groaned in response, the penny suddenly dropped. Glancing in the rear mirror I cautiously asked, “Is Bruce your boyfriend or something?” “No,” she said, “he’s my husband.” Oh.

Despite having missed the big race I sheepishly returned to the radio.

Lazy

Sorry about the lack of recent posts but I'm too distracted by the constant Olympics broadcast to engage passengers beyond the basics. It's like...get in; sit down; shut up.

Call me lazy.

PS. Ray Hadley for a Walkley, or whatever award boofey radio blokes win.

Winter

Bluey

I arrived back at work this week to hear news of a speed camera bluey headed my way. It is worth four demerit points and places me in a precarious position, re work.

The image above is the actual school zone I sailed through on July 21 doing 51 kmh. Two Catholic schools are covered by the zone - a primary school and a high school.

On that day, a Monday, Government schools had resumed from Term 2 holidays.

Also that day the Pope left Sydney after the World Youth Day celebrations and I was aware that due to the event Catholic schools had extended their holidays.

Thus there were no pupils or teachers at either school that day as they were still on holidays. Therefore I intend challenging the fine on a technicality of a non-school day.

What do you think - do I have a legitimate case ? Does anyone know how variations between Government and private school terms are treated by the RTA ? Can I rely on the posted signage indicating the speed zone only applies to 'SCHOOL DAYS' ? 

Away(3)

Some recent shots from the New England ranges, heading home, slowly...