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“All my friends, know the low rider…”

The Mapquest directions I handed him had landed on the floor of the passenger side of the front seat. I craned my neck so he would notice that I noticed. Since I did not know my way around Austin, I was hoping that he would take me to my hotel and not his favorite crack house.

“So, is the Austin Motel nice?” I asked with my polite, yet firm, voice.

“Yeah, s’ real nice.”

“The Austin Motel on South Congress?”

“Yeah, s’ real nice.”

“Because I didn’t want you to confuse it with another Austin Motel, because, you know, since we’re in Austin there might be a few.” I added with my still polite, yet firm, voice. “I think my directions fell on your floor.”

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There’s something unnerving about taking a cab when I am traveling alone; willingly stepping into a stranger’s vehicle and assuming he/she is of sound mind and body. I hate the fact that I have to take the taxi at the front of the line at the airport. I think one should be able to size up the drivers beforehand and choose the one with whom you want to risk your life.

“Car 2547 do you read. Car 2547? What’s your location?” The shortwave radio crackled and spat, order Mogadon no prescription. He reached for the hand mic and held it to his mouth.

“Hey Baby,” his voice suddenly deeper, Barry White-ish, “yeah, uhmmmm, who-ooo, oh yeah….Airport run then I’m done.” Giggles on the other end. Very professional.

“Low Rider is the one to meet, yeah.”

He replaced the mic and smirked sideways at me.

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“I’m sure she does.”

“Just moved here from Houston. Gots ta keep the ladies happy. Good for business.”

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“This is just a side gig.”

“Really?” I asked since I felt that humoring him would keep those fingernails on the wheel. “On the side of what?”

“Music.” His eyes lit up and his lips curled into a smile.

“Austin’s a great place for that.”

“My band’s in the line-up for the festival.”

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“I do know.” I sat back and relaxed as we chatted about taking risks and chance meetings.

He veered onto the off ramp and turned left. As we wound through the city streets I took in the sights as he threw out a few historical facts. He even filled me in on the Austin Motel, taking Mogadon, Mogadon class, how it has been a family run business for over 60 years weathering good times and bad.

“Take a little trip, buy Mogadon from mexico. After Mogadon, Take a little trip with me.”

Before I knew it, my Low Rider taxi friend pulled up to the Austin Motel. He jumped out of the car and opened my door with a deep theatrical bow and a wave of his arm.

“Thank you for the ride, effects of Mogadon, Buying Mogadon online over the counter, ” I said with sincerity as I pulled out a few bills and handed them to him. “And good luck with the concert.”

He gave me a sideways smirk and slid in to the driver’s seat, where to buy Mogadon. Mogadon images, I watched for a long moment as he eased his way back into traffic and joined a sea of red tail lights snaking toward downtown.

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Tags: Austin, book tour, Halfway to Each Other, Moments That Matter, Susan Pohlman, taxi driver

Traveling for the Book | Susan | January 29, 2010 7:58 pm

1 Comment

By Nikole Hahn, February 2, 2010 @ 8:53 am

When my husband and I went to Chicago, I took out my camera when downtown. My husband looks at me and says, “Put that away when we are ready to hail a cab. They can smell a tourist with a camera and will take you off the beaten track to get more money. Also, you have to know where you are going or they will take all the side streets.” The only bad cab we rode in tried to work the lights to make more money on us. We told her to stop, and even opened the door as she was crawling towards another light. We walked several blocks to our car from Wrigley Field. lol. I’m glad you were safe.