Taxicab Tales – Lust In The Back Seat

In the past, I have shared a series of stories from my days publishing small town newspapers, from a job I had selling cars, about my time in the Army, and some tales of the offbeat adventures and misadventures I’ve gotten into in a series called Nick Happens. Now, I thought I would share some stories about a period in my life many years ago when I drove a taxicab in Tucson, Arizona. Oh, some of the things I witnessed back then! I’ve told more than one prospective author that if they really want to learn about human nature, they need to become a cop, a nurse, or a cab driver. You will see the best and worst of people in any of those jobs.

Anybody who’s driven a taxicab for very long quickly learns that just when you think you’ve seen it all, you haven’t. I got a call to a bar on the west side of Tucson, and when I arrived, my fares were a very large (well over 300 lbs. each) couple. They got in the cab, and in a voice I can only describe as Tiny Tim on helium, the woman gave me an address on the far east side of town. She also told me that her name was Carmen and the gentleman’s name was Rodney, and they had been high school sweethearts who had just reconnected after many years apart. I told them that was very cool and congratulated them on the reunion. She said, “The reunion is just getting started. Drive fast, cab driver.”

It was late at night and traffic was light, but I had only gone a couple of blocks east on Speedway Boulevard when, from the back seat, I heard the sounds of moaning and groaning. Then Carmen asked breathlessly, “Cabdriver, are we there yet?””No, ma’am, we’re just getting started,” I told her.
“So are we,” she said. “Drive faster.”

The sounds from the back seat got louder, and the windows started to fog up after the first mile. Our route was about eight miles, and under normal driving conditions, would take about 15 minutes. Because it was late, there wasn’t much traffic, so the only thing slowing us down was the occasional stoplight. But it sure seemed like there were a lot of them that night.

Soon, that high squeaky voice from the back seat again asked, “Cab driver, are we there yet?”
“No, ma’am, I’m going as fast as I can without getting in an accident or getting stopped by the cops.”
“I’ll pay the ticket. Step on it.”
She might have paid the ticket, but I wasn’t going to get the points on my license, and I darn sure didn’t want to get in an accident. I went as fast as I safely could while not getting into trouble.

On we went past past Country Club Boulevard, past Alvernon Way, past Craycroft. I’m not a voyeur, but I heard sounds that night that I’m still trying to forget. When we passed Wilmot, my squeaky-voiced bundle of passion in the backseat said, “Cab driver, please tell me we’re there.”
“Almost, ma’am!” I shouted, in as much panic as she was, I think. “Don’t worry, we’re going to make it.”
“I know we’re going to make it,” she replied. “It’s just a question of where. Step on it.”

I whipped into the apartment complex near Kolb Road and asked which building they wanted, and she said, “Just stop here by those hedges.”
One of them threw a $100 bill over the seat, and the last I saw of them, they were making their way to the hedges. She was pulling her dress up above her more-than-ample rear end, and he was waddling with his pants down around his ankles. There are some sights that even a $100 bill cannot erase from the mind of a poor, hardworking cabbie.

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And finally, here’s a chuckle to start your day from the collection of funny signs we see in our travels and that our readers share with us.

Thought For The Day – I love that you know so much and so little at the same time.