Notes From A Retired Cab Driver
By Dmitry Samarov
I quit driving a cab in Chicago a couple months ago after nine years on the job. Do something 12 to 14 hours a day, six or seven days a week for that length of time and there's no way it won't shape your relationship with the world. I've spent these recent weeks recalibrating because I no longer wanted my life to be led from behind the wheel. Closing that driver's-side door has been eye opening.
A cab driver's life is unlike most others'. He spends hours and hours randomly looping around the city, punctuated by the lucky short spurts when he's got a fare. Then the meter goes on and he's operating at the passenger's pace. Of course there are drivers who subject people to their own itinerary and rhythm, but those guys rarely last, burning out from running too hot or being asked by the city to seek alternate employment for any number of possible transgressions – from crashes to badly-thought-out scams. The alternating aimlessness and concentrated activity over the daily 12 hours or more makes for an often-chaotic personal life. You end up fitting all other chores and pleasures around time in the taxi. You pay to rent these vehicles so when they sit idle it weighs on the conscience. In a certain way it never feels like you're truly off-duty because at any hour of day or night you can walk out to the cab and be back on the clock.
During most of my nine years, I worked from the afternoon until late into the night. The only time I saw the sunrise was at the end of my shift, just before my head hit the pillow. Now I wake a little after my girlfriend has gone out to give the dog his morning walk, typically between 7 and 8 a.m. For all those years, I was on a diametrically opposite schedule from much of the world; now I'm trying to run along with the rest of the pack. It's novel to wake in the morning and go to sleep at night the way most other people do.
In the cab I dealt with the public all the time. Dozens of small social interactions every day would pass without a second thought. Now I rarely see anyone.........
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By Dmitry Samarov
I quit driving a cab in Chicago a couple months ago after nine years on the job. Do something 12 to 14 hours a day, six or seven days a week for that length of time and there's no way it won't shape your relationship with the world. I've spent these recent weeks recalibrating because I no longer wanted my life to be led from behind the wheel. Closing that driver's-side door has been eye opening.
A cab driver's life is unlike most others'. He spends hours and hours randomly looping around the city, punctuated by the lucky short spurts when he's got a fare. Then the meter goes on and he's operating at the passenger's pace. Of course there are drivers who subject people to their own itinerary and rhythm, but those guys rarely last, burning out from running too hot or being asked by the city to seek alternate employment for any number of possible transgressions – from crashes to badly-thought-out scams. The alternating aimlessness and concentrated activity over the daily 12 hours or more makes for an often-chaotic personal life. You end up fitting all other chores and pleasures around time in the taxi. You pay to rent these vehicles so when they sit idle it weighs on the conscience. In a certain way it never feels like you're truly off-duty because at any hour of day or night you can walk out to the cab and be back on the clock.
During most of my nine years, I worked from the afternoon until late into the night. The only time I saw the sunrise was at the end of my shift, just before my head hit the pillow. Now I wake a little after my girlfriend has gone out to give the dog his morning walk, typically between 7 and 8 a.m. For all those years, I was on a diametrically opposite schedule from much of the world; now I'm trying to run along with the rest of the pack. It's novel to wake in the morning and go to sleep at night the way most other people do.
In the cab I dealt with the public all the time. Dozens of small social interactions every day would pass without a second thought. Now I rarely see anyone.........
>>> Read More
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