I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "The doctor says I don't have very long." "I don't have any family left," she continued. "It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?" "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated." She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. "Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. All the furniture was covered with sheets. ![]() The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. "Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. ![]() Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.
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