Sketchbook Cabbie, Part One
Human stories coming from the backseat of my taxi cab.
Before Uber and Lyft, for a short time, only on weekends, to earn extra cash, I drove a cab. The gig was brief but poignant. I learned a lot about humans and human experience from those I drove. Only occasionally would I catch a glimpse, in my rear view mirror, of who in the backseat I was driving. I mostly listened to them talk. Maybe I’d ask questions...sometimes playing therapist. The stories I heard were imbued with a palpable sense of tragedy, comedy, despair, and hope.
I would sketch and write in my journal, after the fact, from memory, at the taxi stand, waiting for my next fare. Here are a few of my musings as a part time, Marin County cabdriver.
Keep it Up, Hooligans
I wait outside the Mayflower Pub on 4th Street, the crowd of face-painted soccer hooligans gather to celebrate the tie the U.S. team managed to pull off in the first game in their World Cup series against England. Not bad for us underdogs. “USA, USA, USA,” they all chant. The game was televised on the big screen inside. An extra Porta-Potty is set up outside for them. It’s 1:00pm and the copious beer they drink gets them peeing a lot. Maybe one of these drunks needs a ride home, to sleep it off? I dig that cool white jersey with the coat-of-arms that one of the England fan wears. I also notice that San Rafael police cars are circling the block. The fans are behaving themselves now, but the World Cup runs a month long. Who knows how long we’ll be in it? How long can these fans keep this up?
Beat Up
Ben sticks his bruised and battered head in the window of my cab and says he wants to know if I take cards.
“Yup,” I say.
“How much (is it) to Sleepy Hollow?” he asks.
“About $15,” I answer.
“OK,” Ben responds as he carefully and painfully eases into the back seat.
“How’d you get so banged up?” I ask.
“I crashed my bike on Pine (Street) in the city. It was my own damn fault,” he says. “But last night, I was just hanging in Hayes Valley, no wait, maybe it was Union Square, and this guy socked me, knocked me out cold. I was just asking him a question. Next thing I knew this Canadian sailor was feeding me coffee.”
Through the mirror, Ben’s fresh cuts and scabs seem to make his story ring true.
“What do you do for a living, Ben?” I ask.
”I’m a student,” he says. “I got one more semester at College of Marin. Then I don’t know what’s next.”
Ben seems not only hurting but lost.
“Maybe join some bros, gonna chill in Thailand for a while,” he says. “My buddy Dwayne is gonna open a microbrewery. He started it in the kitchen of his frat house.”
After 20 minutes we reach his destination, unscathed. I take $20.40 from his Visa card.
“Take it easy, Ben,” I say, as I hand him the receipt.
“Yeah, bye,” he answers.
Going Once, Going Twice…
I picked up Marilyn at her vintage Arts and Crafts home (with restored tower) in a beautiful section of San Anselmo. She’s an antique dealer who needs to go to the San Rafael Auction Gallery at 5th and Hetherton. Oddly enough, I’d been at the same auction house earlier in the day, eyeing a beautiful Hokusai print and a pair of Eames chairs. She’s an expert at this and shares with me about the process of online bidding, absentee bidding and in-house bidding. Marilyn loves Stickley furniture and pewter. But she has a proxy-bid on an American Impressionist painting once owned by Louis Comfort Tiffany.
A few hours later, I returned to pick up Marilyn. She missed getting her painting but scored some jewelry. She’s ecstatic. This is her passion. As I drive her home, she tells me how important it is to be pragmatic about this business and that it’s important to know your limits. “People get caught up in the adrenalin that pumps in these events,” she says. Marilyn offers to mentor me at the next auction.
Views from the Sausalito Taxi Stand
Migrating albatrosses skirt and stir up the surface of the bay.
Colored sails of Islander 34’s lean into the wind.
Vistas framed through my cab window, through trees on the Bridgeway.
Tourists ride bikes with maps trailing tall orange flags.
But it’s the fast-moving peloton that suddenly owns the road.
Others wander like peregrines, take pictures like paparazzi.
Mission-style porticos, elephant fountains and stores selling merch.
A distant violinist plays Stardust for loose change.
Foreign accents collide with seagull cackles.
A Marin grand dame exits the restaurant and heads my way.
The cool, gray fog is funneling through the Golden Gate.
Look for more Sketch Cabbie narratives coming soon!
More:
You can find more of my drawings and stories here.
Tim Keefe writes some fascinating narratives in Cab Talk: Voices from the Backseat of a San Francisco Taxi.
I like the scene describing poetry in the final story. Thanks Bill!
Great stories!