Jake the Cab Driver

Its another blue interview shirt day. There is a light drizzle outside as I pick my way carefully to the cab between the puddles. The HR woman who was coordinating my visit walks out with me and leans in the window of the mini-van. She's one of those people who you meet and instantly genuinely like, although something about her simultaneously unnerves me. She is well meaning, but distinctly alien.

"Hey," she says, "This is Pika, and I just found out she hasn't seen the city yet. She's got some time before her flight, do you think you could give her a little tour? It would be nice for her to be able to see the city before having to choose if she wants to live in it."

The cab driver seemed to be in his mid fifties. He wore a red plaid shirt and a big smile. "Yeah," he said, "Absolutely." He turned to me, "Hold on a second then," and cleared out the front seat so I could ride shotgun instead of the normal ceremonial position of the same side but sitting in the back.

"Jake," he said, extended a big red hand for me to shake as he drove toward the security gate. He looked almost sunburned even though up at college it was barely spring.

"Pika," I grinned taking his hand.

The gates clattered open and Jake pulled the vehicle out. "Well, they seem to like you," he smiled. I decided I liked Jake.

"Yeah, but I think they might be trying to put me on a defense contractor job instead of one of their commercial ones."

"You don't want that?"

"No,"

"I can respect that."

Its a sad thing that I'm left with the ability to speak candidly to a cab driver but not to my interviewer. I know my interviewer will never ask the cab driver what I said. The truth is that these people have been totally forgotten, like most persons in the service industry have. Nobody looks at them like people anymore. I personally think they are the best sort of people and normally always try to make an effort to talk to them. Partly it is always entertaining to hear what they have to say. On another level I think it really makes their day to just have a few minutes when some asshole isn't condescending to them for no good reason.

Jake's from a family of three. He has been in the industry of transporting things and people all his life. When he was young he and his brothers ran a bicycle delivery service.

I looked at him thinking he had to be nuts. He was definitely not old enough to remember a time when cars were not prevalent enough for bicycles to be a competitive way to do things.

"No seriously," he said. "This city suffers from gridlock. A bicycle can pick its way along the streets between the isles of cars at a good 10 miles an hour, and can take all sorts of shortcuts a car can't. Besides that, bicycles are cheaper to repair and you don't have to pay to fuel them. They don't require insurance, and they represent a lot less overhead."

"Oh," I said, feeling thoroughly schooled.

Jake smiled. I guess he was use to people initially laughing the idea off. "My older brother ran the business," he said. "He started out with just the three of us. He was a brilliant business man you know. He bought all one-speed bikes."

"One speed..." I was confused again.

Jake had a million little stories about this, how the one-speed bikes saved on repair costs and time, how they gave kids the option to use their own bicycles, repair them themselves, and earn a little more on each delivery for doing so, how he and his brothers had purchased all the christmas presents in the family one year, how as the organization grew he found himself more and more overseeing overhead, how at that time his hands perpetually smelled like chain grease from repairing huge fleets of bicycles.

As we drove along Jake gave a narrated tour of the city. I was actually floored. I have never heard such a well-given tour. The man's knowledge of the French and Indian War blew mine out of the water. If nothing else he knew how to pronounce all the Indian tribes.

"I'm really lucky," he grinned, "I love this stuff and study it for fun, but its not every day I get an audience." We were both grinning and happy.

"I'll take you to the strip district," he said, "I bet that is exactly your kind of place."

I sort of wondered what initial impression I had given him to make him think anything called 'the strip district' was my sort of place. In reality the strip district was the name for a large international district full of foods that I couldn't pronounce but dearly wanted to try and people selling massive amounts of junk on the streets. He had completely hit the nail on the head.

We drove passing steep inclines which were navigated by cable cars. Jake explained how they use to balance the wagons on one side, horses and all with the cable car coming down full of other stuff. This reduced the effort and meant that 1800's technology could easily move the cars up and down a mountain. We drove among tall reflective main buildings and quiet market squares. I was fascinated. No wonder HR was so eager to give me a tour. I'd happily live in this city.

"So," I gestured to the car, "What happened to it? The bicycle delivery system?"

"Oh, I decided to retire into easier work," he pointed at the interior of the van. "My older brother is still doing it though, even deliveries. He's absolutely ripped, looks a good 10 years younger than me. He comes over and gives us all crap about being so much older than us and yet looking so much younger. You know how brothers are."

I grinned, "What about your younger brother?"

"He's doing a lot better. He was going down a hill pretty fast once when some asshole decided to open a big van door on him. The front wheel got jammed under the door and he went up over the handle bars, whole body upside down against the open door. Broke his lower back in two places. If he hadn't been wearing a helmet the doctors say he'd be dead. He's really lucky though, he still walks and everything. He can't do manual labor anymore though."

I was aghast. "What happened to the driver of the van?"

"He tried to leave the scene with my brother just laying there, claiming he didn't notice. Somebody got his plate and traced him back, but its claimed that he did it by accident so there is not a lot we can do. They settled it out of court recently but, not for a whole lot, but my brother appreciates the closure of having it finally be done. We all realized it really isn't worth getting upset over. No amount of punishment on that driver will make my brother's back better again."

I was amazed by his maturity in this situation. There didn't seem to be a whole lot to say so I was very quiet.

Jake looked at me and smiled, "That's the way these things go sometimes kid."