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ON TAXIS AND BACK-SCRATCHING

Legendary design, drivers from central casting, opposing seats and easy wheelchair access—London’s taxis may be the world’s best. But only if someone else is paying. After seven years here, I’m still shocked by the fares.

Not that one minds paying for quality. Before London I lived in Boston, where the average cabbie seems to be re-enacting a ”Speed”-inspired, gasoline-fuelled death wish. The questionable driving is matched by suitably depraved manners. Cabbies in Mexico City may have a nasty habit of kidnapping their passengers, but at least they seem to understand the value of human life.

In taxis, as in finance and theatre, London’s only real rival may be New York. A yellow cab is nearly as iconic as a black one, but cheaper. Paddington to the Museum of London’s taxi exhibit costs the same as Penn Station to Brooklyn’s Transit Museum (60% further). And in New York it’s easy to pay by credit card, many taxis are energy-efficient hybrids and drivers (sometimes) help with luggage.

New York drivers are occasionally as crazy as their Beantown colleagues. Once I noticed my Manhattan cabbie drifting between lanes. He was relieving himself into a Snapple bottle. But, I got where I was going without delay. In New York the crazy is mostly deployed to your benefit.

Surely, somewhere manages both British sanity and American-style service? For taxis as for everything else, the answer is Canada. Vancouver’s taxis are perfect. But drivers are so careful and friendly it’s like being given a ride by an elderly relative. I forgot I was in a city.

I like San Francisco’s cabs—inexpensive, with cool drivers. They have a natural sense of whether you’d like a chat or a quiet ride. Go for the chat—they’re usually on their seventh career and are full of fascinating Kerouacian shards about the city and how they wound up there. They seem relaxed, but one gets the sense that back in the day your average SF cabbie was a serious hell-raiser.

But it’s often impossible to hail a taxi in the Bay Area. Indeed, passengers are often looking at a phone call followed by a 55-minute wait.

So, really, we’re back to New York and London. Absent an expense account, my vote is for New York, where a taxi remains an affordable luxury. Service may be volatile but often drivers are memorably gracious. Indeed, many New Yorkers have a taxi-themed parable of finding warmth in the faceless metropolis. Mine was years ago on a snowy January night, when halfway home I realised I was short of cash. The driver laughed madly, floored it and took me anyway, fishtailing down unplowed streets while howling, “I scratched your back! I scratched your back!” I think I knew what he meant, and have never forgotten his kindness.

~ MARK VANHOENACKER

Picture Credit: Roger Bits (via Flickr)