I drive my little taxi in...

I guess one of the strangely fascinating things about living in Singapore is that you meet very interesting taxi drivers. There are lots of them on the road, and they drive for sometimes very different reasons.

Some are less chatty than others. The chatty ones though, can be really chatty. To the point that not talking back to them would be absolutely rude because they have such interesting stories to tell, and tidbits to share.

Sometimes they just talk about their families. There was one who talked about his daughter's first week at work and how he was trying to meet up with her for lunch on that day. Very sweet as I recall.

Another talked about the ghostly spirits that inhabit various parts of Singapore. Stories of which I hear about rather frequently here in Singapore. Never knew the place was so 'alive' with the paranormal.

Then there was one who talked about how his customers were 'getting it on' in the back seat and what a pain it was to get the seats cleaned. I'm glad I always choose to sit in the front when I take taxis alone.

A few times I met taxi drivers either on their first day or first week on the job. You can generally tell that they're still a bit nervous and not quite used to driving strangers around in a car with a lit-up sign on top.

I was the very first customer of one of them. I could sense the pride and satisfaction he felt in getting me to where I wanted to go on the first try.

Often such drivers will also talk about what they were doing before they became taxi drivers.

A lot of just-retired guys. Fewer women in general. I've met only one. I wonder why?

One was taking it up because he wanted to provide for his family after being unemployed for a while. He had three kids to feed. He became a taxi driver just after getting his driver's license. He didn't know how the hell to get to my destination and I had to get there urgently. But that was okay. I still salute him. Good guy. Brave in many ways to be doing what he's doing.

Not all of those stories are happy though. Sometimes it's a guy who's lost everything in a previous life. Previous life, meaning the life before they became taxi drivers. Some of them seem better able to cope with such realities than others. For these guys, telling you their stories is just a way for them to reminisce the good ol' days, often with a hint of poignancy, and nothing more. Others, not so fortunate.

I met one such guy today. I wonder what happened to him, though I daren't ask him all the details at the time. He looked disheveled, and from talking to him it seemed like something really bad happened to him and the wounds had not yet healed. I noticed he still wore his wedding ring, but from talking to him I doubt his wife is with him anymore. Sad.

Someone asked me what is love. I guess to me, love is never ever allowing the person you love to feel the way the taxi man felt.

To love them for who they are, regardless of where they may have come from in life. To show kindness and compassion when needed, which is always. Above all, when they feel the world around them is starting to collapse, always be there for them. Always. Even if it may hurt to do so sometimes. It doesn't matter what you have to give up because in the end all that matters is that they're alright. As cliched as it may sound, as long as you have each other, everything else really isn't so important.

I digress.

Anyway, do talk to you taxi drivers once in a while. Most of the time, if you listen carefully enough, they really do know what they're talking about.

Thank them for bringing you home safe.

Tip them even, especially if they're nice and don't take you for a ride to bump the meter fee up. There will always be asshole drivers. But they're usually not very interesting.

Beats taking the MRT any day.