A friend posted this story on Facebook awhile back, titled A Sweet Lesson on Patience, and it moved me so much that I decided to revisit and share it on Alphabet Salad once again. (For those who may wonder, I’ve checked Snopes and confirmed its veracity.)
The Cab Ride
There was a time in my life twenty years ago when I was driving a cab for a living. It was a cowboy’s life, a gambler’s life, a life for someone who wanted no boss, constant movement, and the thrill of a dice roll every time a new passenger got into the cab.
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What I didn’t count on when I took the job was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, the car became a rolling confessional. Passengers would climb in, sit behind me in total darkness and anonymity, and tell me of their lives. We were like strangers on a train, the passengers and I, hurtling through the night, revealing intimacies we would never have dreamed of sharing during the brighter light of day.
In those hours, I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh, and made me weep. And none of those lives touched me more than that of a woman I picked up late on a warm August night.
I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partiers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover or someone going off to an early shift at some factory in the industrial part of town.
When I arrived at the address, the building was dark except for a single light in a ground-floor window. Under these circumstances many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a short minute, and then drive away. Too many bad possibilities awaited a driver who went up to a darkened building at two-thirty in the morning.
But I had seen too many people trapped in a life of poverty who depended on the cab as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door to try to find the passenger. It might, I reasoned, be someone who needed my assistance. Would I not want a driver to do the same if my mother or father had called for a cab?
So I walked to the door and knocked.
“Just a minute,” answered a frail and elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman, somewhere in her eighties, stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like you might see in a costume shop or a Goodwill store or in a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The sound had been her dragging it across the floor.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
“Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. “I’d like a few moments alone. Then, if you could come back and help me? I’m not very strong.”
I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm, and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
“It’s nothing,” I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.”
“Oh, you’re such a good boy,” she said. Her praise and appreciation were almost embarrassing.
When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?”
“It’s not the shortest way,” I answered.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.”
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
“I don’t have any family left,” she continued. “The doctor said I should go there. He says I don’t have very long.”
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. “What route would you like me to go?” I asked.
For the next two hours we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they had first been married. She made me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she would have me slow down in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.”
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a tar driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. Without waiting for me, they opened the door and began assisting the woman. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her: perhaps she had phoned them right before we left.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase up to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You have to make a living,” she answered.
“There are other passengers,” I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent over and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. “You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.”
There was nothing more to say. I squeezed her hand once, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me I could hear the door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I did not pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the remainder of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten a driver who had been angry or abusive or impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run or had honked once, then driven away? What if I had been in a foul mood and had refused to engage the woman in conversation? How many other moments like that had I missed or failed to grasp?
We are so conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unawares. When that woman hugged me and said that I had brought her a moment of joy, it was possible to believe that I had been placed on earth for the sole purpose of providing her with that last ride. I do not think that I have done anything in my life that was any more important.
So sad, yet so very wonderful.

Twitter: kymberlyfunfit
July 14, 2014
So poignant and heart warming, yet sad at the same time. I hope I do not outlast all my loved ones.
KymberlyFunFit recently posted… Wine, Aston Martins and Beaches: A Santa Barbara Weekend
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 14, 2014
That would certainly be sad, wouldn’t it?
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
Twitter: systemsavvy
July 14, 2014
WOW – what a story! I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes. I hope I’ve never missed the opportunity to show compassion because I’m so “caught up in my life”. Thanks for posting!
Lisa Mallis recently posted… I Want to Use My Time Better, But . . .
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 14, 2014
I feel the same way, Lisa!
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
Beautifully written piece, and such an emotional story – wonderful.
Sophie Mahir recently posted… 20 Ways To Start Your Day Effectively & Get The Results You Want
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 14, 2014
So true – glad you appreciated it.
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
I need to learn to have more patience, I am not a very patient person at all.
Terri recently posted… The Lind Family
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 14, 2014
I hear you, Terri – I can be very impatient myself.
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
wow this is indeed a beautiful story
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 15, 2014
I think so too.
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
What a beautiful story. Thank you so much for sharing!
Lana recently posted… Pass The Protein Please
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 15, 2014
You’re welcome. 🙂
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
Twitter: kaushiva
July 15, 2014
I’ve read this story before… It is so heartwarming! A small act of kindness can mean the world to somebody!
Aditi recently posted… The Curse
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 15, 2014
So very true!
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
That was such a beautiful story. It warmed my heart!
Kathy Combs recently posted… Gargleblaster: Progress
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 15, 2014
Same here. 🙂
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
Twitter: shyvish
July 15, 2014
I have no words.. literally none. I am sitting here, tears streaming down my cheeks. Thanks for this post, Laurel. You just made my week.
Shailaja V recently posted… Fun ways to Do up the Kid’s room- #Guest #Post
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 15, 2014
You are very welcome, Shailaja. 🙂
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
Twitter: whitefielder
July 15, 2014
Lauren, tks for the story. It is sweet and yet twists the heart. Bless your erstwhile cabbie friend for his sensitivity and he,s fortunate to have had the understanding of life that he seems to have.
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 15, 2014
You are very welcome. 🙂
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
such a moving and heart warming story and I cant agree more the warmth of compassion in each going moment is what makes the life worth living for and worth reminiscing in old age.
Shiva recently posted… Feeling Blocked
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 15, 2014
So true. 🙂
Laurel Regan recently posted… Today’s Gratitude List – Linkup No. 38
Twitter: luxganzon
July 15, 2014
great story worth retelling.
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 17, 2014
Agreed!
Laurel Regan recently posted… Photo A Day Challenge – July 1-16, 2014
Twitter: rm29303
July 15, 2014
This is a story that I hope I remember for the rest of my life. So touching.
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 17, 2014
Same here – it really is.
Laurel Regan recently posted… Photo A Day Challenge – July 1-16, 2014
The story gave me gooseflesh esp all the possibilities he listed that could have happ that night…
richa singh recently posted… Controlling the blogger’s block!
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 17, 2014
Oh, yes! How very fortunate that he was the one to answer the call.
Laurel Regan recently posted… Photo A Day Challenge – July 1-16, 2014
Twitter: shilpaagarg
July 16, 2014
Such a heartwarming and beautiful story. Small acts of kindness make a BIG difference. Thanks for a great reminder, Laurel ♥
Shilpa Garg recently posted… A Scandalous Proposition
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 17, 2014
So very true. You’re most welcome. 🙂
Laurel Regan recently posted… Photo A Day Challenge – July 1-16, 2014
Twitter: BatteredHope
July 20, 2014
I have read this a few times in the past and it is always such a beautiful reminder as to what is really important
Carol Graham recently posted… 6 Tools To Keep Your Reader’s Attention
Twitter: alphabetsalad
July 21, 2014
It really is! And that never gets old.
Laurel Regan recently posted… Welcome, guest posters!
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