Date Taken: 4/27/07
From: Roscoe Village
To: Old Irving
The Cab: Heavily fortified and upholstered in rich tobacco hues. Fort Knox-style rear doors. Maybe it was the deep-gauge vinyl seat covering, but the whole thing seemed thicker than a normal cab.
The Driver: Boasted a polite demeanor and smoking-hot physical appearance, yet remained a study in perpetual twitchery. Changed radio stations at least once per block. First it was a Bulls game, then a Sox game, then smooth jazz, then classic rock. A full accounting was impossible as the one-handed dial flipping was punctuated frequently with bursts of the car’s horn that outlasted the station selection. The red-rimmed eyes and constant nose-rubbing could charitably be explained as the result of a particularly virulent allergy attack, but factor in the suspicious rear-view mirror stare-downs and general air of paranoia and, well . . . let’s just say that had Driver #3067 been more than a passing acquaintance, the northwest corner of Irving and California might have been fertile staging ground for an impromptu intervention.
The Driving: Smooth and proficient. Accented with appropriate bursts of well-measured aggression. Every traffic-avoidance maneuver was a complete success.
Overall rating: 4 extended arms. What? He was hot.
– Natasha Julius
There are more than 6,000 cabs in the city of Chicago. We intend to review every one of them.
Posted on April 30, 2007