Of cabs and ERPs and HDBs.
Cab rides are always an adventure.
From the reckless drivers packed with road rage to the kind, ever-so-polite to the lively chatterboxes - there's always something about this medium of transport that gets you thinking and feeling.
A couple of months ago i got into a cab after my morning shift. The driver seemed like a quiet, pleasant person until the moment another car cut into his lane. Consumed by an unfathomable rage, the almost deranged yet outwardly calm driver tailgated this apparent nemesis for a good five hundred metres of so, highbeaming him as they went along. Then came the inevitable drive past when the driver would stare so meanacingly at the other person.
Today, it was the nice chatty uncle. He had allegedly gone to take a piss at the nearby garbage dump when my taxi booking came up on his monitor. He hit the 7-9 minutes button, arrived at the block 4 minutes early and was taking smoke. As i approached, i signalled that he should finish up his cigarette, since those little sticks these days aren't all that cheap anymore. But he very energetically greeted me and stubbed out.
There are two kinds of chatty cab drivers - one that would entertain you with incessant chatter about his life, the world and irritating ERP gantries. Then there's the other - the angsty ones, type that curses the system and laments how tough their jobs all. I personally prefer the former because the latter annoy me with their self-indulgence.
The uncle today spoke to me for the entire cab ride, about the usual ERP gantries (of cos, it's a must-have topic), the overhead bridges where traffic police officers love to camp at, his son, a pilot, who had so fortuitiously secured a HDB upon his very first ballot but even more fortunately that it was before receiving his "wings" (else he would've had to settle for a condo because of his salary cap) and how i should approach my MP and shower him with absolutely acceptable white lies so as to get myself ahead of the HDB queues. He was hilarious, to say the least, when his lively and somewhat loud persona took a turn for the mellow when he received a call from his wife, which he exclaimed was a "spot check, she want to make sure i'm not out sianing char bo".
So at my destination, he returned me my change and laughingly wished me luck with my HDB applications. It felt sincere and honest. It was a good cab ride.
It was yet another 20-minute adventure i won't forget.
From the reckless drivers packed with road rage to the kind, ever-so-polite to the lively chatterboxes - there's always something about this medium of transport that gets you thinking and feeling.
A couple of months ago i got into a cab after my morning shift. The driver seemed like a quiet, pleasant person until the moment another car cut into his lane. Consumed by an unfathomable rage, the almost deranged yet outwardly calm driver tailgated this apparent nemesis for a good five hundred metres of so, highbeaming him as they went along. Then came the inevitable drive past when the driver would stare so meanacingly at the other person.
Today, it was the nice chatty uncle. He had allegedly gone to take a piss at the nearby garbage dump when my taxi booking came up on his monitor. He hit the 7-9 minutes button, arrived at the block 4 minutes early and was taking smoke. As i approached, i signalled that he should finish up his cigarette, since those little sticks these days aren't all that cheap anymore. But he very energetically greeted me and stubbed out.
There are two kinds of chatty cab drivers - one that would entertain you with incessant chatter about his life, the world and irritating ERP gantries. Then there's the other - the angsty ones, type that curses the system and laments how tough their jobs all. I personally prefer the former because the latter annoy me with their self-indulgence.
The uncle today spoke to me for the entire cab ride, about the usual ERP gantries (of cos, it's a must-have topic), the overhead bridges where traffic police officers love to camp at, his son, a pilot, who had so fortuitiously secured a HDB upon his very first ballot but even more fortunately that it was before receiving his "wings" (else he would've had to settle for a condo because of his salary cap) and how i should approach my MP and shower him with absolutely acceptable white lies so as to get myself ahead of the HDB queues. He was hilarious, to say the least, when his lively and somewhat loud persona took a turn for the mellow when he received a call from his wife, which he exclaimed was a "spot check, she want to make sure i'm not out sianing char bo".
So at my destination, he returned me my change and laughingly wished me luck with my HDB applications. It felt sincere and honest. It was a good cab ride.
It was yet another 20-minute adventure i won't forget.