Trafika Europe 8 - Romanian Holiday

The TaXi Driver

a second, I thought about ramming the car into the guardrail, but I wasn’t sure it would really injure him. So I didn’t. But I knew I couldn’t just keep quiet.What the hell was I going to say though? Honestly, I was completely stumped for the first time in my life. As you can see, I like to chat with my passengers. With the women, I talk about the weather. With men, I talk about politics, about a horrible accident, or the latest game scores. If it’s not a blockhead who only nods his head and answers yes or no, then the conversation can go somewhere. Once I had a passenger who was going a long way, out to the countryside. We started talking about the bad roads, then halfway through the trip we discussed whether

cell phones caused cancer, and by the end of it, we were wondering out loud about the afterlife. But, what can I say? With this guy, I was speechless. I wanted to pull over and say to the criminal , get out of my cab . I sat there quiet as a mouse. I kept looking in my rear view mirror to see what he was doing. There he was, in my rear view mirror, just staring out the window. You know, when my son was little, he told me he wanted to be a taxi driver, just like me. Now, my wife keeps watching thosedementedTV shows about the paraplegics who go to China and get some magic operation done that fixes themup. She keeps nagging me to go down to the TV station and tell our story to the producers so

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