"Buckle up for safety..."

Woo. It's snowing. Turning to rain. Freezing rain. Woo. This means another slippery, slidey, life-threatening drive to work involving people with crappy tires, people still half asleep at the wheel (coffee, people. Ever heard of Starbucks?), angry truckers on speed, and trophy wives touching up their make-up in their rear views on their way downtown to meet up with friends and get their hair done. My cynical view of the world includes the fact that no one can drive, no one can think, and no one can ever match me in the traffic game. Which means my imminent demise at the hands of one of the above.

I always get this black, heavy, lethargic slow-mo feeling of impending doom whenever some yahoo pulls up behind me at a red light, or when traffic slows from 60mph to 10mph...like as if they're gonna ram me right up the ass because they don't know what the fuck they're doing. Like, why is everyone, like, stopping?!? Like? Doh. Like.

Shit.

If it's a taxi, though, I never feel that way. If there's a taxi following me, I can almost feel the black, heavy lethargic sense of doom lifting and floating away. Phew! It's a cab! I will not die today! I will live on to torment yet still more coworkers, neighbours and relatives!!

So where did this innate trust of taxi's come from?? Certainly not from the movies, where it seems every director has the exact same car scene embedded in his brain. Everyone driving in a movie car scene is a complete and total inept loser except the hero of the day. Every cop, truck driver, construction worker, fireman, and I'm pretty sure if professional race car drivers happened to be cruisin along in the scene, they'd be inept, too. So much for any last vestige of reality in the movies. Though, hardly surprising. Reality and movies do not go hand in hand. I'd make a good director, apparently we share the same views on drivers in general. 'Cept for the lowly taxi driver, who, in my town are the only drivers capable of using turn signals, letting people in, and using hand signals that mothers would actually approve of.

Thus, I've come to realize taxi drivers are one of the last things I have complete and utter faith in. No clue why, I believe in their ability to do the job well. Should the brave little taxi fail me, my cynicism will be complete. My faith in mankind's ability to perform an everyday job and have pride in one's work would be crushed beneath the wheels of reality.

And so, on to another day.