And So It Begins

For a number of years, I drove cab. I loved being a cabbie. It saved my life. When I was hired to drive a taxi, I was at one of my bottoms in life. I was detaching myself from a destructive relationship. I was unemployed. I was severely depressed. I was virtually homeless, living on the beneficence of friends. When I became a cab driver, the shadows hovering over me began lifting almost immediately. It gave me a home, a hearth, a welcoming embrace, and an education.

Jimmy K. took me out on my first training run. He told me: "You'll get addicted to it." He was right. I'm a recovering alcoholic, and I become instantly addicted to anything that makes me feel good. Driving a cab made me happy. From the very first, I loved the freedom of living behind the wheel. I loved the always-changing scenery through my office window. I loved the breeze through the windows. I loved the radio chatter, instant cash, variety of passengers, and the confidence I gained by learning to read maps and find locations quickly.

I loved my taxi brothers and sisters: Leo, Frank, Pierre, Caroline, Barbara, Terry, Randy, Zip, Jimmy K., Fig Newton, Hooter, Beaker, Heath, Jason, Valerie, Monique, Tony D., Tony B., Jeremy, Igor, Buddha, Lisa. So many faces and voices live in my head from days and nights on the roads and streets. I hear them in my sleep, in my imagination, and in my heart.

When I started on this new career path, I was just over four years sober, and still struggling with life's lessons. There were many things I needed to learn that cab driving provided in small doses. For instance, I needed to realize that I could not control people, places, and things. Traffic didn't flow at my whim. People didn't behave as I wanted them to behave. Weather was. I couldn't change what was outside of me, so it was imperative that I change what was within. Slowly, painfully, I began to grow up a little. I learned to accept reality and dance with it. Temper tantrums, tears, and toil---but I finally began to grasp lessons which had eluded me in my first few years of being sober. Joy usually appears wearing a different costume.

When I stopped drinking, wise heads informed me that I would find "...a new freedom and a new happiness". And so...it began.