A Month of Miles

[skyring]

In the time since I've started driving, the moon has circled the earth once, I've driven around Canberra twenty-eight times, and I've looped an amazing number of roundabouts, particularly the ten that define the road between Civic and the airport.

In that time I've visited every area in Canberra from far east to west and extreme north to south. I've driven around suburbs I never knew existed. And I've met an incredible number of people, albeit briefly.

Without a doubt, it's the people who make the job. The nuts and bolts of driving the car and doing the taxi things like working the MDT and processing CabCharge vouchers are easily enough learnt, but I'll never run out of new people to meet, and they are all different, each one with a fresh story to tell.

"Hey, remember Taxicab Confessions?" the guy beside me said to his companions, after he'd noticed me smiling at some snippet from the back seat. "If you put a webcam in the taxi, they could make a fortune."

I indicated the security camera.

"No, no, I mean something the public can access over the web." he replied.

I didn't remember Taxicab Confessional, which apparently was an ancestor of the reality TV show, somewhere between Candid Camera and Big Brother, but then there's a lot of television I never watched.

And a lot of fascinating taxicab conversations, many of which I couldn't possibly reproduce here, such as one happy gentleman's description of oral sex moments he'd had in cabs. Now that was a memorable ride!

At least once a night I'll thank a passenger for their company and their conversation. "I should be paying you for the entertainment." I told a group last night.

"Feel free," one of them replied.

"Ahh, taxi regulations prevent me..."

Or there's the moment of serendipity when I discover that a passenger and I share an interest. I've already mentioned a shared love of "Between Silk and Cyanide", and there was a fascinating conversation with a passenger who shares my passion for collecting translations of the "Tao te Ching". And only last night, I ferried a museum specialist to the airport and we talked with joint enthusiasm of the National Building Museum, an inspiring but little-known establishment in Washington, where I lost my gloves one frigid January, but was warmed by the sight of the building's magnificent interior.

Contrariwise, there are the people with whom I have very little in common, who talk in jargon of things I never heard of. Like driving down the unknown streets of a new suburb, I find myself enthralled by the glimpse of a different world, full of people living out their lives in a different ladscape.

But, by and large, I can find something in common with everyone, quite apart from that great taxidriver fallback, "Hey, how about this weather?"

Yes, it's definitely the people. The sudden intimacies of the taxicab bring out some extraordinary conversations. If I could work out the privacy and technology problems, I'd install a webcam in a flash, and turn this rather one-dimensional journal into a multimedia presentation.

But maybe I prefer writing about people and events rather than filming them. A taximan's world through my eyes, rather than the camera's. I can filter out all the fluff and guff, change names and places to protect the guilty, edit out the mundane. And inject my own interpretation. And how could a webcam possibly pick up on the joy and pride I feel at odd moments during the day. The thrill when I turn the corner at the beginning of the shift to see the cab waiting for me, gleaming white and full of promise. The pride in my professionalism when I choose the shortest possible route and the passenger thanks me, "that's the lowest price I've paid for this journey yet!". Or the pleasure when a passenger gets out of the cab, cheerful and smiling. The money's nice, but I live for the smiles.

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