It goes without saying that the past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions: fear, isolation and the uncertainty of when/if things will ever be normal again
It’s the end of the taxi industry as we’ve known it and, honestly, I don’t know what to feel anymore.
I Drive SF: Two strangers in the backseat
“Getting a cab is just so…” her voice trails off.
As much as I try to resist the urge, playing the airport is addictive.
She gives me an address on Turk Street. I ask her to repeat. There are no hotels or apartment buildings
I sensed right away that he was on the skids.
I Drive SF: Practicing the lost art of getting around
When I don’t have the cab, getting home to Oakland at night can be a long, arduous journey.
The Dreamforce convention ended on Friday and most of the drivers are hoping some of the 170,000 attendees haven’t left already
Thanks to AB 5, this column will no longer be weekly.
Some days it seems like winter is already here.
The image of laidback Californians is spurious at best.
It’s difficult to figure out how to get back on track once your timing is off. Do you speed up? Slow down? Take a detour?
The humiliation of feeling wanted one second and then rejected the next seemed to be the epitome of embarrassment.
Over the following days, a pall has hung over the holding lot at SFO where drivers congregate between rides.
When you deal with lots of cash, someone always wants a piece of the action.
Despite the allure of a San Francisco morning, this isn’t how I expected to begin my day.
Despite feeling out of synch most of the week, there was also a weird synchronicity at play.
Down at SFO, they were closing one of the three runways for 20 days to make repairs.