It was maybe just, oh… a few weeks ago that his mom, Hunter and I took a drive down and around town from the Heights. His mother had me make a number of stops; some church on Patrick and Quebec, the cheque cashing place up on Division, near the Shopper’s on Princess… Timmies. On the Run then to the Sunshine Deli then back home again, to Compton. At each stop, Hunter and I had the chance to get to know each other… a little bit better… not bad for thirty bucks or so.

“I’m the only one in my family who's never been in an ambulance.”… Really? Yup… all his, who really knows how many, brothers and sisters had been hurt, either had accidents or done one dumb thing or another that had ‘em whisked off to emerge. Hunter’s one brother gave him no end of laughter, he slipped and cut his butt on the soap thingy in the shower. His mom corrected Hunter’s assertion by pointing out that the one who cut his butt, was fixed up right there outside their place over on Compton, right in the ambulance outside their door, it never had to go anywhere… splitting but hairs as far as Hunter and I were concerned.

Boys n' their moms… The moms crazily fretting the choice they’ve made to waste a bit extra on cab fare to make the hectic bits n’ pieces of their day fit together, the boys… cool, I’m in a cab! “What’s your name?” “I bet you’re… what 8, 9, 10?” ...and I know enough to guess higher with the boys. Which one of them doesn’t want the taxi driver to think he’s older… regardless as there’s really little difference between a 6, 7, 8, 9 or 10 year old little video gaming addicted Minecrafter… Boys are a funny n’ jumpy little bunch in the back of my CAR… and it helps my knowing the other questions they want to be asked, and the ones that’ll drive their moms crazily… easy enough, the same questions.

Yesterday I picked up Dawson on Stephen. He’d missed his bus… well. let's be clear, his mother missed it. She lifted him out of his chair and into the back seat of the CAR. “The seat part comes off like normal” …but the back is different. As she showed me how to disassemble the contraption so that it could be folded and stowed in the trunk, it dawned on my last shift of the week’s and surprising busy Monday morning's mind that Dawson and I would be off to school together on our ownsome… awesome. "...would you like me to call you when I get him there?"

Dawson mumbled loudly about some chocolate mouse and Snoopy flying a plane, or something… oh… “…did you see the Santa Parade on Saturday?” Ya! “They had… this and this and that and that and that and…” Bumpity bumpily… “Why do you keep asking me where I live?” “No you asked ME where I lived”… oh(?)… “I like when you say bumpity bumpily” So I said it, well kind of sang it ove n' over again as I hit every pothole, bump, rut n' ridge in the road I could find on the way off to Dawson's school… up in the Heights. Dawson and I were having such a wonderful little wee of a time I made a wrong turn, turned around and hit the meter off early…

I unpacked Dawson, taking his chair from the trunk and re-assembling it just as his young mother had shown me. I lifted him into it, with, what a wonderful feeling to have a little boy in my arms once again… After putting his feet n’ the foot holder thingies and buckling up his seat belt, I noticed there wasn’t another sole in sight at the school to hand awesome Dawson off to… except for another little boy headed, head down I guess a bit late, near the doors. “Can I bring him in here?” sure… “Do you know Dawson?” Ya… I’ve seen him around… we went into the school, I grabbed the taxi chit from the secretary as some busy young teacher whisked little Dawson away before giving me one final chance to say… bumpity, bumpily… 

Later that day, I got a call to deliver Kingston’s young maestro, to the railways station, stopping for, of all things an extra clothes hanger that had almost ruined his day… He was in a mad hurry but we had more than enough time to review the minutia of Kingston’s new music hall, and go over what it’s like to be a symphony conductor in a littler place like Kingston …”sorry for the bumpily, bumpities” I said, rather sang to our town’s newest young maestro, almost without thinking as we bounced over the level crossing they’re currently working around n’ soon over, over up on John Counter n' Portsmouth… Another very pleasant cab ride… calming an anxious fare with my oh so superior superhero like driving... say the 20th or so of almost 30 this day… bumpily bumpity… thinking… if this is all I get… boys today… if this is all I get… then I’ll take it... bumpily if not beautifully.

I found out later in the day that last night was the Royal Military College's yearly Ball, there do seem to be a lot of balls of late and conferences too. Enough to keep a guy driving a CAR around this gorgeous little city busy... enough. The RMC Ball made for a little extra business this morning as I picked up stray ladies from Queens all over here and there, fetched a few couples out of the various hotel rooms ...before I knew of the Ball I got a Zone 3 call while sitting all the way down in the my boat yards, Zone 1.

It's rare to get a Zone 3 call all the way downtown... a challenge I guess and man, did I rise to it. I raced up Bay to Bagot, raced down Bagot barely slowing at the single stop sign, the reason Bagot has become my chosen route for running "up". Up Bagot to it's end at Russell, left n' right onto Montreal then playing the angle on Railway over to Division... (man what a wonderful freewheelin' time of day to be driving)... If it weren't for a Wonderbread Truck, I may have alone risked a ticket... I was able to pass the truck where Division widens out to two lanes just passed the Police Station... A timely Wonderbread cover I guess... caught a green at Counter and the No Frills intersection. Swung right onto Benson and was at the Day's Inn door in, by no stretch of the imagination... four minutes... flat... out to the Inn.

I picked up a kid in uniform, RMC Cadet; first yearlings are forced to wear their uniforms out n' about town at all times... a tradition this kid respected. He was an extremely respectful kid, and I would hope so seeing how these RMC kids are the future brass, our future Military leaders who at some point a ways off in the future may be called upon to... You get it. Someday I'll run through my ranking of the kids who attend Kingston's three institutions of higher n' then much higher learning... This kid ranked right up there.

...for all intents and purposes he was AWOL, out past curfew, he had a more than good enough reason seeing how he'd invited his gal down from Quebec for the Ball. He hadn't seen her for months. I assured him that there'd likely been well more than a million military men before him who'd risked the wrath of a superior in order to spend the night in a superior situation; he certainly sounded much in love with this young lady and told me of her with as much respect as he was showing and told me that he had of the uniform he was meant to and made to wear each time he went out in about town in his first year at RMC. I dropped him off with a suggestion that, rather than sneak back in, he should confront his superior later that morning with an explanation of his situation surrounding curfew. He told me that this what he had intended all along... "...good, now GET IN there." I said with a smile.

The very next call had me plucking a young lady wearing a gown with Queen's University Engineering Jacket draped over her shoulders, straight out of the clutches of another young military man, most likely out of uniform, in the adjacent dorm. She'd had a grand time at the Ball after all... The kids n' the other cabbies choose to call this "the Sunday morning walk of shame". Me, I've decided I'll call it "the walk of infinite n' pleasant possibilities." – I mean, it's another beautifully gorgeous Sunday morning. The sun's shining and this young lady beside me is smiling all the way through or drive back into the city... Why cheapen a moment, I thought for the moment, she was with another good uniformed young man... and smiling.

...quite a bit earlier that morning, mixed in with all the ruckus of these kids having a ball, I'd pick up an old fella at Emergency Ward at the Hospital. A frail old fella who looked lost and bewildered as I drove him home in the dark to his lovely old home over on William. Are you alright? He was doing OK, he'd been in with his wife all night... I stayed by his driveway for a few extra minutes before...

I picked up a couple more couples who looked ready to spend a nice next day together then another guy and a gal who'd called two cabs to go their separate ways... A girl in a hurry to get from the Holiday Inn to what I figured was her own place up on Johnson. She was adamant about being in this hurry... I hit every light right and asked her "...was that fast enough enough for you?" as she stepped out of the CAR with a smile and said... that it was OK.

...a bit later that day I got a call, a pick up on William, "...have I been in your cab once before?" I told the old fella, a sweet old former professor that I'd drove him home from the Emergency Ward earlier that morning. He looked a little more rested, but still rather bewildered; his wife had had a few falls over the last week and this time wasn't able to get up. I asked him if he had been able to get a little sleep, he rambled a bit about this, that, and anything but how his wife might now be doing. He needed a bit of extra help to get out of the CAR. I waited as he walked very slowly around it and held to Emergency Door open, literally shooing him inside with "GET IN there ol' fella!" as if to lighten his moment waving gesture to emphasis... KEEP it MOVING. He and this busy little morning did keep it moving at points even hopping and racing. Indeed... what a ball... all this balling after all.

A cab ride in Kingston is the start of a lot of lot longer trips trips... to Toronto, far less so to Montreal than I would have expected. So few in fact, I feel it necessary  to celebrate them by gushing-about that lovely french city of ours. My CAR has been the start of more than a few trips to Vancouver even more to Ottawa and a very few to Winnipeg and Edmonton Alberta. Each time I pick up someone who is off to the railway or the airport (I still barely believe is really there). I’ll ask “Where are we headed today?” On answer… I reply, “…well I can [only] take you part of the way there.”

I’ve taken a humanities professor part way home to Sweden and a marketing exec partway to Atlanta… I’ve taken three suspiciously fit n’ quite large military fellas from their headquarters to… er… the Middle East… er… for a while, I think. I picked up a very nice woman, early one morning at the ferry docks and drove her part way to China, well actually the Hong Kong part of China at least. This morning I picked up a young Lady at the Frontenac Club on King. She was on her way to the Via Rail Station. Where are we headed? To Toronto… Home? No ultimately I’m headed back to New York City…

Oh… really... ?

I’ve had a few fares in CAR 29 who once lived in The City; the exec off to Atlanta and one of my nurses who for a time was an actress down over in the East Village. I’ve had plenty of folks who’ve visited there plenty of times and I’ve enjoyed comparing our notes quite a bit, but… I guess something just struck me this morning about this nice young woman, a new mother.. as she jumped in my CAR and we headed off for New York.

Her place is on Bergen just down from Smith Street, merely five blocks from The Sacred Heart of Jesus and Mary, the first place I called home in Brooklyn. “Right, you get on the F Train at the front...”; as we talked, the smiles I saw as I glanced over my shoulder were ones perhaps only good neighbours usually share. I told her of all my places, she told me her stories, we chatted at a pace that only now seems vaguely familiar. Sure, we talked a bit about the towers but didn’t linger on ‘em as I had a whole list of things to go over with her about the playgrounds she’d soon be using… I couldn’t stop smiling throughout our whole conversation..

It’s happened a few times upon arriving at the Railway station... grabbing her bag from the trunk of the CAR… I sensed a pause in our chatter, feeling an almost mutual urge to give each other a hug as we said our goodbyes. I blew her a kiss and as she headed off homeward and couldn’t help but think of my city… the rest of  the morning. A few twinges of homesickness for a home I don’t live in and quite likely will never even ever see ever again? Maybe just a bit lonely, certainly missing my son, but incredibly happy to know that someone I’ve just met is really enjoying using my old place… home to my city, my big ol' New York City was most certainly a nice place... to get part way back home to this morning.

This day… just the other day, just another regular old n' routine sort of a day, started a little differently than most other days I suppose. After checking my fluids, I turned the key and logged CAR 29 on to find myself at number one in Zone 3… Rather than racing down to the boatyard… sure, why not… I felt up for an early morning's pitch dark drive through the Height...

After a spin down Compton at 5:42, a pick up at 766 John Counter on route to the very end of Rigney... (a way up by the railway tracks almost right back next to our taxi garage).

"...oh, thankfully I'll be laid off soon if they don't give me a plough.” said the nice young fella with the biggest lunch box I've ever seen. In work clothes with his big pile of work gear, I dropped off this youngster, a Cruickshank's Construction worker, a former crane rigger at Kimco and then got the hell down from the Heights and on with the day, in towards the heart of the City of Kingston. Down Division today, again simply to do it a slightly differently... I headed for Zone 4, the Wartime and sat there for few more minutes than I would have liked to… read my readings, chanted a few chants, casting a few incantations n' had had just about enough, when... it stared raining as it would and then wouldn’t then harder and softer, all through this… regular old n' routine of a day.

Around 6:33 I was at four hundred and something Bagot, off to Kingston General Hospital [KGH]... at 6:57 I drove back over to 135 Ontario Street to the Via Rail Station... it’s 7:21 and we’re off up on Princess, the Best Western west of Sir John A, to Starbucks at Wellington... then at 7:48  a hop over to... a pick up at Four Points all the way to 49 Place de Armes behind the K-Rock (thank goodness that was Cancelled).

An average old n' routine day really got rolling with a new nurse on Bagot. Well likely not new as she wasn’t a youngster, just not one of the many nurses I've been getting to know on those way too early mornings they hurriedly have to jump into my CAR… I do love my nurses and can usually get 'em giggling on these mornings that they've slept in... again! Zipped back into Zone 1 to grab an older woman, a retired nurse? A professor? At The Curruthers down on Ontario to run up to the train. She’d be meeting friend along her way to Toronto to visit the Aga Kahn, a new museum in Toronto with a great collection of Islamic art... so she told me. I thought to myself, indeed we’ll have to see that and say thank you to this older perhaps retired woman some day. Then down from the station to the Best Western on Princess to fetch a corrections officer in for a conference at Four Points. Funny enough I ended up there myself just moments after I'd dropped her down the road at the Starbucks for her morning’s first fuellings…

At 7:51 a cancellation make up, a pick up at the Delta to Transformix Robotics a way out on Gardiner... Then at 8:20 a "back flip" to Bittersweet Place all the way down Princess to the Tim's on Macdonell… afterwards at 8:45, over to Mack Street and again off to the Via Rail Station.

When Four Points was a bust CAR 29 threw me a bone and had me take a couple of Italians, serious business men a way out to the westend to meet with some roboteers who were making them angry... Apparently the robots they felt they needed to assemble the thingies that make mist squirt from their perfume bottle was a bit behind schedule. My only question, definitely not spoken in Italian was weren't there enough Italians looking for something to do that you couldn't find one or two to assemble these misty thingies for you back in Italy? A business like smile and a friendly nod... then I was off to a bittersweet place… You can’t know how happy I was to find out that my new home, The City of Kingston has a street named "Bittersweet Place".

Another construction worker, this one quite careless with no lunch box; just a kid who'd lost his licence in an, eh hem, bittersweet fashion... "that'll teach you" I told him. He agreed and promised he'd learned his lesson and wouldn't do that, ever again. He led me to believe he knew what it’d cost him... almost... Then off to Mack for another in a long line of professors I’ve had in the backseat of CAR 29. Perhaps a bit not like the others, he worked in drama, the Theatre Arts department, the author of the play, Brebeuf's Ghost. He seemed rather nonplussed when I told him I’d come here to work for Jim and that I'd seen his kids perform Galileo's Daughter at the Bader last year... I've a touchy time with these professors... I’d accuse them of having attitude, if only I knew for certain it really wasn't just an attitude of my own.

Just… a little later, 9:42 another hotel stop along Princess, the Peach Tree and off down to the hospital, again… At 10:09 to Shopper’s Drug Mart’s back door on Bagot to the Queen’s campus, Mac Cory Hall... then way back over across town at 10:23 to Sydenham past Bay, almost too close for comfort and down to the Lone Star... yet another stop along the shore of Lake Ontario 10:40 Ontario to Shoppers Drug Mart’s… back door.

"How's my cologne smell?... I mean, is it over powering? ...its the cheapest I could find at the Dollarama last night" said the huge n' happy n’ jovially round n’ puffy man from Grand Prairie. A fuel truck driver who seemed happy that so far he didn't have a story of his own truck exploding... one did catch fire though. He had a belly laughing posture but with anxiety in his eyes... He was off to visit his ex-wife, on her last days in the hospital... "Mother of your children?" (I asked quietly)… He described his boys as… the oldest, the smart one is not doing too too well, the one in the middle caught in a revolving detox puzzle, the youngest one, the dumb one, is doing the best of ‘em all… Oh, and the cologne? I pulled out the extra Pine Tree car freshener I had in my pocket; Black Ice scented and told him to rub it all over his neck, face and chin… he could have done a lot better as these Pine Tree car fresheners are likely much cheaper than… the smelly cologne he'd found last night at the dollar store all on his own.

The rain we'd been having all morning became a monsoon as I drove an Indonesian student with heavy and very British accent to class. Then picked up a couple and drove 'em on back to Shopper’s… back door. Hmmm… I think I may have missed the opportunity to introduce you to the Lone Star Bartender, no worries there'll be other pretty routine n' regular old days in CAR 29 quite shortly I’m certain… the next one, it’s likely has already happened.

Back downtown at 10:55 for another try at the Four Points this time success and off to, you guessed it, the Via Rail Station... then all the way back for an 11:35 pick up at the CIBC's branch on Bagot to the Bus Station... up in the Heights again at 11:55 it was off to the upper corner of the City of Kingston, 44 Virginia to the Credit Union at the grotty old Kings Lake Plaza... then back... 12:20 re-pick-up at Kings Lake Plaza to 44 Virginia... again.

You may have read it in the papers already, in the next few days, Canada’s wee little Army will be putting boots on the ground in Iraq... or so I was told by a Lt Colonel who’d been attending a Military Futures, Readiness Conference... Frighteningly, like all the brass I've had in my backseat, this fella was younger than I'll ever be. Three tours in Bosnia two in Afghanistan, he couldn't wait to get back on his playing field and do battle again. His family? They understood him... As always I thanked him for his service and asked him as he stepped out of CAR 29 to “…do keep an eye on our boys... after all, you’re the Lt Colonel”. He gave me a nice tip which left me wondering... am I nothing but tip mongering ploys?

The fella I picked up at the bank at the corner of Brock and Bagot had come to town to sort out his aging parents affairs and... was staying in Kingston, or maybe not, although he maybe might like to. An RMT with a laser surgery practice and a new member at the yacht club which I'll soon be joining and I did get the chance to asked him if he'd consider crewing for me on race nights? "Will I see you at next week's wine tasting?" ...not likely, but I'm looking forward to seeing this David fella again. Oh dear, Bus Station drop offs leave you back in the Heights… this time to drive ol' Jack to the Plaza then back. A sweet old man who reminds me of some old TV actor I can't put my finger on... he read the name on my taxi driver's badge and called me by name many times during the trip down to the Plaza n' then the trip back. “Thank you Gordon, I look forward to seeing you again”.

At 12:57 back to the Shopper’s back door on Bagot n’ over to Goodes Hall. Then up for a coffee n' pee and a pick up at 13:31 at the Maple Family Pharmacy... over to 47 Village Drive up and tucked over by the river... then at 13:59 a No Frills call that strangely took me to Patrick and Raglan... near home.

Admittedly these routine days can get kind of rugged, gruelling even tiring at some point or another… I’ve learned to smile through it and with a happy hello... "are you partially blind? …I mean, do you need some assistance?” I asked the fella who walked gingerly from the pharmacy and had no end of trouble squeezing himself ever so awkwardly into CAR 29. "...nope, just a rare form of spinal arthritis"... that's all and much more. Then a couple that spoke mostly with themselves except when I told them we were neighbours, that he lived just off my island, the block that I live on… He'd done two stints in therapy and is applying to become a councillor... seeing how he's been through it… I helped with their groceries... "looking forward to seeing you around"... and all.

14:15 To the hair dresser at 187 Sydenham to the Cataraqui Centre ... a short wait in the rain 14:45 Cataraqui Centre to Warburton... and then 15:01 MacKay Street to the Metro Grocery at the Gardiner Town Centre... down to another end of Kingston off Day's Road 15:22  Chelsea Street to The Keg... downtown again.

Nothing perks me up more than my little sweet n' blue haired old ladies... This time there were two, one with a walker the other couldn't walk well at all. All the way out to the Cat Centre, fighting over directions as we watched the sky turn even more blacker I told them I was racing the next blast of rain as I wouldn't want to leave them getting all wet with new hairdos... After dropping them off, unfolding the walker and walking them up and into the mall's covered doorway a happy little n' goofily bitchy little girl taps on my window and asks that I drive her to her parents where she's living after a split with her boyfriend and losing her job... As we pulled into her driveway I noted the tree swing hanging in a tree in the front yard of the house she felt too old to live in and asked her... “is that yours?"

"...is that accent Greek or Russian?" I asked the wizened old lady. The question perked her right out of her grumpy old demeanour, I'd given her some leeway as she was all soaking wet. "Ukrainian" she corrected... then we proceeded to sort out which of her countrymen like and which others don't like the Russians. She was neither here nor there on the Russians but don't bother her with the Poles. As I unfolded her walker and helped up n' out of the CAR, she smiled and asked, but then realized she'd probably take too much time with her shopping for me to wait and drive her home "...I do live quite close". Sadly, I had to go...

Eating last nights leftover pizza was the restaurant manager I'd driven with downtown a few weeks ago. He says very little, make me feel a little un-comfy but leaves a nice tip and a smile as he gets out and gets off to work.

Finally it’s almost over… 15:52 with pick up at Staples on Queen to Concession and Kingscourt... then I finish the day 15:56 just up from my home at Raglan to Diana’s Fish thingy... er, Market.

Just another, what, it's done already? ...rough n' tumble and regular old routine sort of a day... with no real surprises, just extremely nice people, one after the other that I picked up, spoke with and learned a little something of as they went along their way... Twenty or more little stories I don't have to make this stuff up… just listen and prod and asked one or two questions more than the last fella who didn't really show much of an interest… and… your day? How was it? Truly, honestly, seriously even, I've a need to know as... I've not heard anything like this before.

My new found n' favorite "fishing hole" was very good to me the other day (a place I go to find the odd good fare). I can't say much about this hole here as indeed, I've definitely become one of those drivers who feels it better to hold certain cards close n' tight to chest, in his own hand. Although we're, for the most part quite friendly with each other I have to admit it, all us drivers are really free wheelin' agents out here. Even among us drivers drivin' for the same company; we are after all still battlin' it out for that same fare... the good fare, the juicy fares that put the good numbers on your sheet each day. The second fare I fished outta my new found favorite fishing hole this day was a pretty young Nigerian-Canadian woman; off to take the train to Ottawa to write a licensing examine as a step towards her long life ahead journey in becoming an immigration lawyer...

"So, ya wanna be a loi-er do ya?" I asked her in that botched New York accent I never really was able to truly pick up while living down there. She giggled, and said something that I guess subconsciously indicated that she'd be a little more open to a little vicious political ping-ponging... the utterly dangerous sport of discussing "politic" so often best to be avoided while in the cosy confines of CAR 29. She was kind of a rookie, but we had some very good vollies over the dreaded immigration issue. It was a good 25 minute drive, discussing guilt, being nice and "should feeling good about ourselves" really set the tone of policy in places like Canada, the US and Europe?

I really was just practicing my new found, freshly minted and definitely not perfected "non-absolute" conversational tactics peppered with softening jokes n' giving an inch banter... by the end of the trip we were both laughing. I told her..."...do the best you can on the exam and come home and give that big ol' Nigerian dad of yours a huge hug for giving you the opportunities you've before you today!" ...she smiled as she left CAR 29, leaving me a whole $6 tip, which... I will admit seems small but is a quite nice one when mixed in with all the driving arounds with these little lovely blue haired Ms Daisys with their walkers all day... keep the shiny bright quarter young man... I ramble... and remind myself, I do love my little old lovely blue haired old ladies (really, I do)... and their walkers.

Exorcising the rare n' ghastly feelings the oddly none-to-often political conversation leaves behind in CAR 29 is a bit of an undertaking... Best bet is to treat the next fare with even extra kindness, go lightly on banter on myself and keep the conversation squarely on their own adventure, the one that's unfolding around their immediate need for a ride in CAR 29. My next fare was a young fella, picked up on Newmarket, on his way to his restaurant with a "quick stop" to pick something up at the wholesale grocer over on Elliot along the way. A good fare with stops and wait time, a few extra nickels n' dimes... I thought.

 As we pulled into the wholesale grocer's the kid tossed me enough "dimes n' nickels" to pay off the fare already on the meter... a bit odd as we usually settle up these stop n' goes at the end of the road... "...just wait for me, I'll just be a second or two." were his only instructions. He left his bag in back and hopped outta the CAR. Hmmm... I guess he's nice enough, I'll consider the fare paid and not charge any wait time (a nice little trick n' gesture I often offer to good fares as wait time adds up lickity quickly in these taxicab meters)... I waited... hmmmm... maybe since he's already paid up, I'll restart the meter and charge him another $3.20 drop, this'll cover a bit of the wait... I waited some more. Hmmmmm... what's this little bastard up to I began to worry to myself. Perhaps it was even a legacy from the last fare, those rare n' uneasy ghastly feelings left behind by the oops a daisy but lovely political conversation I'd had just before; maybe they hadn't been fully exorcised outta CAR 29 ...yet.

I started to get a bit... even more angrier than I ever really get. Anger is a feeling I really can't let into CAR 29 and never can hold onto as, driving angry is not only a drag on the day but by all counts pretty dangerous business in this business I've now found myself in... this nickle n' dime business... hmmmmmmm... I thought.... was this fucking little shit head of a restaurateur, a nickle n' dimer himself, nickle n' diming me outta what, a little "wait time"? I woulda just drove off if he hadn't left his bag in the back. Hmmmmmmm... I waited... almost ready to grab his damned bag, bringing it into the wholesale grocer, handing it to him in a huff and storming off over and act of full on dramatics... hmmmmmmm... I waited myself into an almost rage (damned ghastlies, release me!)... I waited until he wandered out with a full shopping cart of crap for his little shitty nickle n' dime hole of a restaurant down on Princess which I will not name because, you know I'm so much better than to be one that might smear another man's business (besides, I hear it's quite a fine dining establishment)... but I did let him have it!

I schooled this little twit on business the whole way down Division. "Messin' with another man, especially another man's business wasn't in any way shape or form a good way to do business yourself!" "Nickle n' diming your suppliers is a false starter that'll blow a whole fart load of pain your way if that's the way you think you'll make a go of it at your own stinking nickle n' dime business"... I scolded him over how it wasn't over my own dollar here or dime there wait time I'd lost out on, but that he'd squandered my precious time... It wasn't about my own nickels n' dimes but the opportunity costs, what I may have lost by sitting there, waiting, meter not on and not on the grid n' available to take other calls... You know, that "million dollar" call all us taxi drivers are just ... waiting for!

He may have got it, or at least a bit of it.

As I helped him unload his big pile of wholesale groceries onto the curb by the door of his restaurant (still schoolin' him as we unloaded)... he handed me a twenty on a $9 fare and told me to keep the change... "does that cover it?"... "Not really", but a (far less than heartfelt) quiet thank you and I was off... cashed out, hoping a little of it sunk in and wishin', thinking maybe I would have handled it a bit differently if it weren't for the leftover ghastlies from my ride with the pretty young Nigerian future lawyering lady... A pause by the side of the next road, a smoke n' a sigh. A definite re-unengineering of the last two drives to finally exorcise... fucking nickle n' diming... maybe that's why I'm no longer in business for myself I half thought, then thought better... nope, I still feel good for never having run a business, that way... but... I'm still not gonna tell a single one of you folks (especially you other fellow drivers) where my new found n' favorite fishing hole is... after all, that ol' hole well, that's just none of your business.

Little rituals have become a bit of a thing with me of late... rituals, chants... repetitive acts that keep me mindful of things I'm, well attempting to be mindful of. I've noticed myself slipping into daily routines that, rather than bore me as they once may have, keep me very focussed and offer me a wondrous sense of, is it ease and comfort? An example of this, I'm finding myself tracking certain stars and planets each morning, noting their position relative to the moon (who has, by the way become a dear friend of mine this past year or so). Other rituals include my (now) intermittent rock tossing and the far more regular "humble stroll" around my little island, the block on which I live and  call... home.

CAR 29 has come with it's own set of rituals. This may be more of a chant, but recently I've noticed myself saying to myself "in the car Gord"... "...get in the car!" – The way I've figured it is it's having the effect of reminding myself to not let myself drift too far away or out of the CAR, letting my thinking get beyond the car too too much. It's also a self imposed safety reminder I supose. One oddness around this, after saying this to myself I find myself either singing or humming an ancient favorite Talking Heads song, "Heaven". It's become a sort of, or maybe kind of the CAR 29 theme song... this oddness is further adds to another inasmuch as  how, long before I ever got into CAR 29, I'd so often find myself singing or humming another ancient favorite Talking Heads song, "This Must Be The Place", which starts with the word... home.

There's no question that CAR 29 is, or at least has become a very large part of what I've been calling the re-uninvention of myself. I've said to more than one fare "...you are witnessing the end of a 25+ year digital marketing career"; I often exclaim how much I dig this gig and how it's allowed me to pitch my past in the trash bin and unchain myself from the desktop. Of course, this is a bit of an exaggeration, it's more one of those "ice breakers" that works more than not. More often than not this admission of not so much defeat but rather drastic change prompts an interesting admission on the part of the gal in the back seat... Re-uninventing myself... ancient favorite Talking Heads songs... the sites n' smells of moldering leaves and that certain algae that blooms along the shores in this part of the upper side n' lower end of the Great Lakes... home?

...and heaven?

When asked ages ago, I used to describe my concept of heaven as the place one holds in their friends, family and loved one's memories after passing. In many ways this fits and is consistent with my current theology... although religion and politics, contrary to stated policy, do find themselves in CAR 29 from time to time, there's little room for my current theology here, at this time. This is simply another of the lala snippets far too happy a story from the, oh I suppose what some day may be looked back upon as the honeymoon phase of this routine job with the opportunity for pleasant surprises; the pitching out of aged old objectives and ideas of what I might get on up to with the rest of my time here... the re-uninventing oneself...

​Listen... have you ever had that fantasy where you are sent back in time, you end up as yourself say 25+ years (or more) ago, only knowing all that you know now?

...this must be the place. For now, we'll call CAR 29 my little ride in heaven in this new home of mine.

Just before it started to rain for the rest of the day. CAR 29 and I found ourselves parked for a very long time in the parking lot of the Kingston Shopping Center. Staring up at what, on any other day might have simply appeared as a monotonously grey late fall sky, I couldn't help but notice... Oh sure, I do love the daily spectacles the glorious, sometimes even gaudy sunrises I've been privy too, or even awe inspired by these past few month, but this morning... The depth and textures in this grey day sky really kinda took my breath away.

Take what we are given I guess and enjoy the most of it... what a pleasure it was watching the Jupitorial swirls of these various shades of grey overhead on a very slow day waiting for the dispatch thingy to go "ping" (well, it's actually more a tweet then an ring a ling)... finally it did.

Tossing away another "nine cent" smoke, and like the superhero I've become... seriously, I deliver people from one place to another simply by tilting my ankle and keeping my hulking steel mobile between the yellow and white lines of the roadways... I set out on yet another mission of... deliverance. This time my fare was a sweeter older lady who was off to fetch her own CAR... the glorious chit chat unfolded (as it so often does).

Somewhere amongst the usual pleasantries, the descriptions of our past and presents, we'd both noted how much we so enjoyed this season, agreeing that it was easily one of the four best seasons there is AND how now, even with most of the leaves blown away, the city was still so absolutely pretty. I must have said something about my earlier view of the swirling clouds as she shared how just a moment of her own earlier she'd been captured by the view of a cardinal sitting in a bush with red berries out on her front lawn. An image of a cardinals, alongside red berries against the swirling grey late fall clouds swerved it's way into my driving mind. Weren't we having a grand ol' time, this sweeter older lady and I as we rolled along watching the rain begin to fall for the rest of the day on this pretty little city of ours.
​
As we pulled into the Volvo dealership, she was having snow tires put on, I noticed a nice overhang covering the entrance to the service center and drove right up n' almost into the garage so that she could step out of the rain. As we "cashed out" and said our goodbyes... leaving one last remark, "Keep an eye on that Cardinal" as she shut the door ending yet another limestone circle in CAR 29... Take what we're given, give a little more and enjoy the most of it... or, so it goes.