THE
CAB RIDE
Twenty years ago, I
drove a cab for a
living. When I
arrived at 2:30
a.m., the building
was dark except for
a single light in a
ground floor window.
Under these
circumstances, many
drivers would just
honk once or twice,
wait a minute, and
then drive away.
But I had seen too
many impoverished
people who depended
on taxis as their
only means of
transportation.
Unless a situation
smelled of danger, I
always went to the
door.
This passenger might
be someone who needs
my assistance, I
reasoned to myself.
So I walked to the
door and knocked.
"Just a minute",
answered a frail,
elderly voice. I
could hear something
being dragged across
the floor.
After a long pause,
the door opened. A
small woman in her
80's stood before
me. She was wearing
a print dress and a
pillbox hat with a
veil pinned onit,
like somebody out of
a 1940s movie.
By her side was a
small nylon
suitcase. The
apartment looked as
if no one had lived
in it for years. All
the furniture was
covered with sheets.
There were no clocks
on the walls, no
knickknacks or
utensils on the
counters. In the
corner was a
cardboard box filled
with photos and
glassware.
"Would you carry my
bag out to the car?"
she said. I took the
suitcase to the cab,
then returned to
assist the woman.
She took my arm and
we walked slowly
toward the curb.
She kept thanking me
for my kindness.
"It's nothing", I
told her. "I
just try to treat my
passengers the way I
would want my mother
treated".
"Oh, you're such a
good boy", she said.
When we got in the
cab, she gave me an
address, and then
asked, "Could you
drive through
downtown?"
"It's not the
shortest way," I
answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind,"
she said. "I'm in no
hurry. I'm on my way
to a hospice".
I looked in the
rear-view mirror.
Her eyes were
glistening. "I don't
haveany family
left," she
continued. "The
doctor says I don't
have very long."
I
quietly reached over
and shut off the
meter. "What route
would you like me to
take?" I asked.
For the next two
hours, we drove
through the city.
She showed me the
building where she
had once worked as
an elevator
operator.
We drove through the
neighborhood where
she and her husband
had lived when they
were newlyweds. She
had me pull up in
front of a furniture
warehouse that had
once been a ballroom
where she had gone
dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask
me to slow in front
of a particular
building or corner
and would sit
staring into the
darkness, saying
nothing.
As the first hint of
sun was creasing the
horizon, she
suddenly said, "I'm
tired. Let's go now"
We drove in silence
to the address she
had given me. It was
a low building, like
a small convalescent
home, with a
driveway that passed
under a portico.
Two orderlies came
out to the cab as
soon as we pulled
up. They were
solicitous and
intent, watching her
every move. They
must have been
expecting her.
I opened the trunk
and took the small
suitcase to the
door. The woman was
already seated in a
wheelchair. "How
much do I owe you?"
she asked, reaching
into her purse.
"Nothing," I said
"You have to make a
living," she
answered. "There are
other passengers," I
responded. Almost
without thinking, I
bent and gave her a
hug. She held onto
me tightly. "You
gave an old woman a
little moment of
joy," she said.
"Thank you."
I squeezed her hand,
and then walked into
the dim morning
light. Behind me, a
door shut. It was
the sound of the
closing of a life
I
didn't pick up any
more passengers that
shift. I drove
aimlessly lost in
thought. For the
rest of that day, I
could hardly talk.
What if that woman
had gotten an angry
driver, or one who
was impatient to end
his shift?
What if I had
refused to take the
run, or had honked
once, then driven
away? On a quick
review, I don't
think that I have
done anything more
important in my
life. We're
conditioned to think
that our lives
revolve around great
moments. But great
moments often catch
us
unaware-beautifully
wrapped in what
others may consider
a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT
REMEMBER EXACTLY
WHAT 'YOU DID, OR
WHAT YOU SAID,
BUT~THEY WILL ALWAYS
REMEMBER HOW YOU
MADE THEM FEEL.
My beautiful
friend... Life may
not be the party we
hoped for, but while
we are here we might
as well dance.
