I went in a taxi... I’ll let you simmer that thought for a bit longer.
My mundane life is dull and lacking and come last Saturday something new and exciting had to be in the cards. As a potential road-raging motorist, taxi drivers are not and presumably will never be my favourite people. Acting like God; the road seemingly diverges away from them as the rearing taxi tackles stones, sand, plastic bottle caps and the odd dinged side mirror of the Gauteng licensed Mercedes Benz. They will not stop for you, nor will they remorse over the new dent that is already on their potholed bonnet. It adds character you see.
This is the stereotype that infamous taxi’s especially Johannesburg ones have created. So after saying that, I’ll let you interpret my statement as you will: I went in a taxi. For the first time ever I boarded this terrifying and angry looking automobile that once resembled a car, I’m sure. I headed down to the local taxi-rank situated in Grahamstown. I got on board and kindly asked Mr Taxi man if he could take me to Location. The ride was pleasant and a lot better than I had ever anticipated. Initially people were standoffish as bewildered passengers questioned the intention of this white girl, luckily I didn’t whip out my pen and paper in my journalistic fashion. The ride was about ten minutes and cost R6, 00. I surmised my silver coins, paid my dues and was well on my way to discovering the other side of Grahamstown, one that was only familiar from the far-stretching view that the Monument offered.
It was interesting to encounter something for the first time when lodging a taxi ride is such an eminent activity for people with little or no transport. It pleasantly surprised me to realise that not all taxi’s are as reckless as us motorists perceive them to be. All aboard the taxi route – I’m keen!
