Flemington good seats doublebug flickr Creative Commons
The lift finally arrived at the fifth floor and The Innocent and the No-Good Boyfriend filed out. But a few steps into the corridor The Innocent stopped directly in front of them. ‘It’s almost like you’re following me,’ she said to Driver. ‘But in case you haven’t figured it out yet men like you, men of your age, are invisible to me.’ She slipped her arm around the No-Good Boyfriend’s elbow. ‘So quit following me and quit your pathetic games.’
They walked away.
‘Let’s wait here a minute,’ Driver suggested, in her wake. ‘Let them get some distance.’ Continue reading →
‘I’ve got an announcement to make,’ Driver said, wrapping an arm around Minnie’s shoulders and pulling her close. ‘I declare, here and now, that I am going to quit driving taxis. And just as soon as I possibly can.’
A tear came instantly to Minnie’s eye. ‘Oh God,’ she said ‘Before yesterday I couldn’t tell you the last time I cried. Now it’s twice in two days.’
Driver kissed her softly on her forehead. He held her by both shoulders and kissed her again, this time on the lips, before wrapping her up in his arms. Continue reading →
Flemington Racecourse, Members Drive. By Camaldulensis. Creative Commons
Driver unbuckled his seat belt and slid himself forward. Both Minnie and Steph put a hand on his shoulder, if not to stop him, to at least encourage restraint. ‘Listen buddy, you’re out of line,’ Driver said. ‘And before you interrupt again, I’m a taxi driver just like you. And, just like you, I hold my own licence.’
At first, the Self-Centred Conversation Hijacker didn’t respond to Driver.
‘At least, I’m taking your word for it that you hold your own licence,’ Driver added. Continue reading →
Consistent with his love of a good list, Driver has defined three types of joy-sucking cab drivers. That, in itself, is an admission that not all of his colleagues share the same outlook on the calling as he does. On the trip into Flemington for the Melbourne Cup, Driver and Minnie endured a cabbie who had achieved the singular distinction of condensing all three varieties of joy-suckers into one distasteful package. Ultimately and inadvertently he did them both a very big favour, but at the journey’s outset their driver’s odiousness did nothing to ease their shared discomfort over the decision that they would actually go to the Cup at all. It was a decision made after the most superficial of conversations during which they were both trying so hard to avoid upsetting the other, for their own different but related reasons, that neither felt they could be honest enough to declare that they didn’t really want to go. Continue reading →