TAXI PLEASE!

New Zealand Listener, Volume 2, Issue 41, 5 April 1940, Page 42

TAXI PLEASE!

T’S all right — Mum’s at the wheel!" This is as they know. her. She is a youthful-looking "Mum," with a: clear, fresh .complexion and very blue eyes. If I gave you her name, the editor would say I was advertising her in the news columns. It seemed fitting that.I should -interview a regular lady taxi-driver in the little side room of her own Service Station. She has a home, too, of course. a very nice one, where she and her husband manage to spend a few hours a.day. But most of her time is spent waiting for calls in the side room of the Service Station. It is littered with motor tools, oil-cans, and various other car accessories-and drifting through the window is the pungent odour of petrol. For Seven Years It was here we talked. "Mum" was dressed in her chaffeur’s kit — a warm tweed coat, a white silk scarf and a dark felt hat. She looked serviceable and effi-cient-and her hands were nice. She laughed a little uncertainly. "T really don’t know what I can say." "Just talk,’ I said. "It will work out." She talked. She told me she has been driving a taxi for seven years-though her interest in cars dates back many years before that. How She Started A stroke of bad luck during the depression, a serious accident to her husband in a car smash, and this plucky woman took things into her own hands and became a taxi driver. She has prospered. She is a well known, well liked, and well respected figure in her suburban community. She told me that her clientele is a loyal and a staunch one, Most of them date back to that adventurous day when "Mum" first took her car on a public road. With very few tespites, she has been going ever since. Her clients wouldn’t let her give up her job if she wanted to-which she doesn’t. To them she is something more than just a taxi-driver-she is, in many cases, their friend and their adviser. In addition, she is a bureau for informationshe is expected to know a lot-and somehow she manages that, too. When people ring for a car, it is invariably accompanied by the request that she should drive. Her clients trust her. Mothers get her to call and pick up their children; invalids and cripples rely on her kindliness and sturdy strength. Intending brides book her up for their weddings. As a driver, among women, she is perhaps unique.’ And I have not her

word for that but her husband’s, and he does not throw idle bouquets. She can out-drive him-and most other men. Her Ambition Her calls take her in all directions, far and near-over difficult tracks and stiff climbs, but they all say, "If "Mum’s" at the wheel — it’s all right!" "Do -you really, like your. work — driving, I _méan?" Her look answered me. "T think it is the best part of my life. I am really happy when I am behind the wheel. It is something more to me than just a car. I know by the tiniest sound if it is running well or if anything. is amiss, I can even sense that in a strange car." "What kind of car do you drive?" "I think I’ve driven every kind — even a lorry. My ambition is to take a turn at the wheel of a big bus — some day I'll do that." "You must find the life interesting?" "TI do. It’s healthy, I think, always being out in the open air, and then there’s the human contact. I enjoy that, too. One meets all kinds of people, of course, but in the great majority of cases they are friendly and nice."

"And do you get any time to yourself, at all?" She smiled. "Very little. I’m up at 6.30 every morning, and my earliest night is 12.30. Yet I manage to do my own housework, cooking, and washing." "And drive in between?" "Of course." "The Three Wise Monkeys " Just then the telephone rang for a call, I walked with her to the car, "It’s amazing," I said. "You must have some secret formula to keep you going like this." "My doctor calls it nervous energy," she said. "That sounds rather like a motto," I said. "I’ve heard it before." She leant forward, smiling above the wheel "T have a better one-indispensable for a taxi-driver. Hear nothing — see nothing — say nothing!" "The three wise monkeys rolled into one?" "That’s me," she laughed back. " Some people call it tact-we need it in this business." The car moved off. She waved. I stood watching the small red light disappear in the distance.