Yesterday, a dump truck ran over a group of motorcyclists on Carefree Highway at 27th Ave. At least three riders were killed, and ten were sent to the hospital. Most of the riders were husband/wife teams, and the group was on an outing. Prayers for the families, if you could, and also for the truck driver who blew the stop sign…

I’ll be out driving a cab today. Please, be careful out there!

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, don’t buy or breed cats or dogs while homeless pets die (spay, neuter & adopt a pet, one by one, until there are none), Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

I’m headed over to a meet and greet with Lori Piestewa’s mother, Jessica Lynch and her little ones, and others from the group that survived that day of ambush in the desert seven years ago. (update: didn’t happen. my contact wasn’t able to make it due to a family matter, so i just made the trip there and back without meeting any of them. bummer.)

Last week was the week of car horns. I was at Costco filling up TMBWitW’s car before our road trip to Kingman, and I was trying to get a movie started for MEG in the back seat. I had the back door open, and was leaned in past her to reach the portable DVD player. An older gentleman laid on his horn, hard, as opposed to a quick tap to let me know he was there, and it about caused a heart attack. I came out of the car, looked at him, and he inched by with his window down, so I could hear his sarcastic remark: “Thank you for being so kind and helpful and letting me by!” The car ahead of me had left, and he was in SUCH a hurry to get going that he had to squeeze by me to get started on pumping his gas. Words failed me.

Thursday and Friday I was in a cab, and both days it seemed like the entire area would have been paralyzed without car horns. Normally, people are in a rush, but just swerve around issues and idiots; if someone doesn’t move as soon as the light turns green someone in the line behind is usually in enough of a hurry that a quick tap on the horn is enough to catch the attention of someone daydreaming. I was in a left turn lane, and heard a siren coming from my left. The turn arrow came on, and the guy right behind me laid on the horn, hard, and I lost it. I slammed the cab into park, jumped out, and went back to discuss the proper use of the horn in traffic. Most of my remarks were drowned out by the emergency vehicles going by at the moment, and when I finished yelling the guy looked at me and said, “Sorry, didn’t know there were sirens coming.” I reminded him that if he was in that much of a hurry, his two choices were going around or leaving his house earlier. He didn’t like either one. Later on, I was flagged down by a lady at a bus stop. I was way ahead of the crowd headed down the street, so I pulled to the curb, expecting her to jump in. Instead, she wanted to discuss how much it would cost to get her somewhere. I was just about to tell her to get in when a lady in a minivan behind me laid on her horn. I’d had enough of horns by then. I jumped out, walked back to her and asked her if her horn needed to be fixed? She looked at me like I wasn’t speaking her native language (I wasn’t, but that’s beside the point) and started cussing me out. I asked her what she would have done if it had been a bus, instead of a cab? She looked confused for a moment and then said “well, I guess I would have gone around.” “Bingo, lady. Go around. Quit blowing your horn unless you want to wear it in an uncomfortable position.” I got back in and took my passenger to her destination. On the way, we passed the bus, and the lady in the minivan ended up stuck behind it while the traffic around her zipped by…

One of my last rides on Friday was a non-emergency medical run (also known as vouchers) for an older lady and her mother. WHen they got in the cab, they had a rather distinct odor about them – if you have ever smelled what cat urine on clothes smells like, then you know what I’m talking about. It didn’t seem to affect them. Every time the breeze shifted, it sure affected me. The odor was treatable – that’s why I carry a can of Febreeze in my briefcase. However, when I got to the car wash to clean up before I turned in, I noticed that the back seat floor mats were covered in cat litter. Used cat litter. My guess is they walked through the cat box on their way out the door and didn’t notice.

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, don’t buy or breed cats or dogs while homeless pets die (spay, neuter & adopt a pet, one by one, until there are none), Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

Sunday morning, I was headed towards the Glendale cage, after spending most of the night running around Tempe and Chandler driving very drunk students around ASU and the surrounding environs. After I had passed the 32nd Street/University Drive exit, a call came over the computer for an address at 32nd St. and University. Jenny needed a ride.

I got turned around and headed back, took the exit, and pulled up in front of the Waffle House. Jenny is what we refer to as a “character”. Jenny had bright red hair, like the Wendy’s Hamburgers sign, and she wore it in two ponytails – like the Wendy’s Hamburgers sign. Instead of freckles, though, Jenny had sparkly makeup on. And overalls. And glow stick bracelets. And breath that could be bottled and sold as 100 proof. Jenny was very happy to see me, and asked if I could take her home. Being too tired to come up with a really snappy answer, I said “Of course. That’s what I do.” I started loading her bicycle into the trunk, and things started to click together a bit. Jenny said “I have no idea how I got here.” I mentioned that it would appear she rode her bike. She said “Well, yeah, but I mean, I left a party that was two blocks from my house and I ended up riding on the FREEWAY for f**** sake, and then I f****** fell off my f****** bike. I figured I was too drunk to finish riding home.”

Colorful character, colorful language. How could this possibly get any better? “I live in Tempe. Can you take me there?” We were a couple of miles from Tempe, so the mystery about the party two blocks away from her home deepened. We started down University, since that was the straightest line back to Tempe. Jenny had insisted on sitting up front, and I have learned not to argue with drunks. I have also learned not to turn my back on drunks.

As we passed under the 143, she said “Can you f****** believe that I ended up on that freeway? And I f****** fell off my bike!” I said “That sounds like it hurt, and you’re lucky you didn’t get hit.”

“I know, right?” That classic ‘I wanna act and talk about half my age’ line made me take a closer look – she wasn’t exactly new freshman age, if you know what I mean. “Thanks again for saving me!”

She gave me directions to her house – right here, left there, straight on for a while… we pulled up in front of the house she had an apartment in. The meter read $12.25. She started digging in her backpack/purse (did I mention the fairy wings attached to her backpack? Yeah – same color as her hair.) She was talking a mile a minute, digging around, and pulling out various items. One item, a rather large glowstick, she says she won at the party for being the “glowiest”. No, really, she said that. She kept handing me packages of glowsticks (unopened) and various flotsam and jetsam out of her backpack. She eventually came up with eighteen dollars in bills. She said “Oh, shoot. Hang on, I’ve got more inside.”

Well, that was already the meter and a nice tip, so I said as much. She said (here is where I started yearning for the camera – she stood there, with her knees together, toes pointed towards one another, slightly bent at the knees, dreamy look in her eyes…) “You SAVED my LIFE! I need to get more!”

As I was unloading her bike and rolling it towards her door, she popped out and said “Hang on, don’t go anywhere! I’m still looking!”

I parked her bike, and started back towards the cab. She popped out again, “I’ve almost found it!” I closed the trunk.

She came skipping down the sidewalk, and stopped in front of me – danger close. I backed up a half step. She stepped forward three quarters of a step. She popped open a twenty dollar bill, and said “Here you go! I wish I had more to give you!” I took another half step back, and she stepped forward again, as I said “Really, this is very generous, and more than enough. Have a good morning!”

Before I could get out of range, she struck.

Gathering all her happy-drunk courage, she threw her arms around me. I started to turn and twist out, but she landed a big ol’ sloppy kiss on my cheek, under my left ear. She released her hold, and skipped back up the sidewalk and into her door.

I wiped my cheek, and examined my hand – just as I thought. I was now wearing sparkles on my cheek. I got back in the cab, and made a beeline for the car wash. While the car was getting it’s bath, I used all the napkins and paper towels I could find in the glove box to make sure I didn’t have a trace of the glitters left.

I have GOT to start taking the camera with me.

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, don’t buy or breed cats or dogs while homeless pets die (spay, neuter & adopt a pet, one by one, until there are none), Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

OK, so since the cab stories are kind of captivating, let’s take a look at a couple of my passengers this past weekend. Truthfully, only one was a passenger – but that’s getting ahead of the story.

First up is a guy I nicknamed (privately, in my mind) Pirate Steve. Why did I nickname him that? When he got in, he dropped his cellphone on the floor of the car. He said, and I quote, “Arrr! I dropped me cell phone!”

I wish I could make this stuff up – then I could write best-selling fiction and be rich. I asked him where he needed to go – he said “I be needing to get to the theater (pronounced thee-A-tur) afore the moving picture starts!” When we pulled up in front of the theater, he said “Ay, I be thankin’ ye for a safe journey! Keep the change, ya scurvy landlubber!”

Apparently, pirates tip well. The meter was about $9, and he handed me $15. Decent sort for a pirate.

The second person was a real case. She was standing on the northwest corner of 75th Avenue and Thomas Road. I was sitting in the left turn lane on Thomas to turn north on 75th Avenue, so she was to my left. She looked at her watch and waved at me, so I rolled my window down. She yelled, “Can you take a fare?” and looked at her watch. I said “Sure thing! Jump in!”

She got the walk signal, and started across. She kept looking at her watch, as she continued straight across Thomas and continued walking south. The only thing I can figure is that she was in a hurry – to be late.

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, don’t buy or breed cats or dogs while homeless pets die (spay, neuter & adopt a pet, one by one, until there are none), Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!

I was going to do an update today, but then I’ve been involved in the migration of the Black Canyon Railroad Museum site to a WordPress platform, and decided to go ahead and finish up some little projects over there (big thanks to Bushwack over at American And Proud for the moral support in getting a second wordpress blog going!). I was driving a cab yesterday, had a good shift with a minimum of weirdos. I’ve also been thinking of restarting my BTR show, with an emphasis on interesting web sites and cab stories. What do you think?

Chat ya later…

Thank you for stopping by, In GOD We Trust, God bless you all, don’t buy or breed cats or dogs while homeless pets die (spay, neuter & adopt a pet, one by one, until there are none), Wear Red on Fridays, and support Warriors for Innocence!