Midnight Miles on Yellow Paint
Most people think driving a taxi in New York is just about traffic, horns, and tourists asking if Times Square is walkable. That’s part of it—but the real city shows itself after midnight, when the streets breathe differently and people say things they wouldn’t say in daylight.
I’ve been driving a yellow cab for twelve years. I know the potholes on Broadway better than my own living room floor. I know which lights stay red forever and which shortcuts only work if you trust them. But what keeps me driving isn’t the city—it’s the people who get into the back seat.
One night, around 2 a.m., I picked up a guy in a wrinkled suit near Wall Street. He looked like the day had lost a fight with him. No phone, no AirPods, just staring out the window. Halfway to Brooklyn, he suddenly started talking—about a deal that collapsed, about a promotion that slipped away, about how he didn’t know how to explain any of it at home. I didn’t say much. Taxi drivers learn that silence is sometimes the best service. When we reached his block, he tipped me more than the ride was worth and said, “Thanks for listening.” I don’t think he even realized my name was on the dashboard.
Another time, I drove a woman who insisted on stopping at three different bodegas at 4 a.m. She said she was recreating the night she first arrived in New York twenty years ago, broke and terrified. We laughed when the third store didn’t have the candy she wanted. She said the city hasn’t changed—just the rent.
Of course, it’s not all poetry. I’ve driven drunks who forgot where they live, tourists who argue with Google Maps, and passengers who treat the back seat like a confession booth or a battlefield. I’ve been yelled at, stiffed, and once chased a fare down the street because he “forgot” to pay.
But every shift, something small keeps me going. The skyline in the rearview mirror at dawn. The quiet hum of the bridge. The feeling that for a few miles, I was part of someone’s story.
In New York, everyone’s going somewhere. I just happen to be the one holding the wheel.