Thursday, July 13, 2006

Cab Rank

My wife's currently away, off impressing business types in Melbourne (I know, I know - months of living on separate seaboards, I finally head West and she flies East. Think I need to change my aftershave).

She wasn't long out of the airport when she was exposed to a minor traffic accident. Grabbing a taxi to her first meeting, it became clear that the cab driver had no idea where he was going. Finally admitting defeat, he swerved in to the side of the road to read his map book. The sudden manouvre forced the car behind him to change lanes to avoid running up his back. In doing so, this other car clipped a motorcycle, and the rider fell off.

Fortunately no one was hurt. At least not to start with.

The biker dusted himself off, and, discovering he had escaped injury, assessed his options. Of course, the correct thing for him to do would have been to call in the accident and swap insurance details prior to the arrival of the police.

Or there was Option B: stamp up to the car that had knocked him over, open the door, then proceed to knock seven shades of shit out of the driver.

Needless to say, my wife was shocked by all this, but was more distressed by what happened next. She asked the taxi driver to help out - at the very least he could radio the incident in and have his controller summon the police. The unfortunate driver of the car behind was, after all, taking a beating as a result of the cabbie's negligence.

The cabbie drove off.

It's hard to know what was the worse thing, the assault or the cabbie's callous refusal to assume any responsibility. At least my wife has been able to do something about the latter - the taxi driver's details are on their way to the relevant authorities.


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