The return of white man jumping.
It has been some time, but I have decided to continue my blog on jumping between joburg taxis. By this I mean traveling Mzani-style, not literally dodging these things in the road. That would be manic.
In the interim I have discovered a new route through to Fourways that doesn't take the M1/N1 highway exchange. My reluctance to use the highway has nothing to do with the new tolling system, I simply don't enjoy hurtling along at highspeed in a taxi, I prefer it when they're boxed in traffic on the city streets, hooting and jostling, vying for position and edging along the yellow lane. I feel it to be a bit safer this way. An illusion I entertain to while away my hours spent on the road.
People in taxis are friendly. We enjoy a camaraderie lacking elsewhere. Handing over your fare to a stranger and being forced to share with them a tiny section of seat as they cram us in, traveling in the same boat as it were, centring the experience around the common goal - a destination, has a harmonising effect. All men travel equal, and there is little time for attitude.
The other day, moving across the Mandela bridge the guy next to me excuses himself and tries to give me R2.50, claiming I had over-paid. I know I handed him R8.00, which was the fare from Bree to Cresta, but this guy, a well-spoken student-type, clearly my junior, insisted that I take the R2.50. In his eyes, if a mistake was made it could only be mine, in handing him a R5 coin instead of a R2. I saw he wouldn't be dissuaded so I took the money thinking I could make a fortune this way, the obligatory white guy in a taxi casually accepting handfuls of change through fare-errors with people being super-nice all the time.
Like this other time, on the new Fourways route, there was massive change contusion. The passenger in front was not a money minded fellow and straight away things went awry. He kept on handing back the wrong change, and with people working out their own fares between them and passing them forward at different times, the three rows behind the driver that is, you can imagine how, with only your wits to manage the transactions, if you get it wrong it can go all the way wrong. Nearly in Bryanston the driver had to stop on the side of the road and whatwhat everybody behind him, and next to him to try figure this out. The end result... we started again, everybody got their money back and repaid. This doesn't work though as people have already managed change between themselves, and the money came back in rows. Of course, being the white guy I got more money than I should have, I already had my change but the nice lady next to me insisted I must have made a mistake this money was mine... so I repaid, kept my change, and made R1 out of the confusion. What can you do? It's difficult to argue with sincerity.
Add this to the few times where I have completely forgotten to pay, simply hailed the taxi and sat down lost in thought, and then jumped, later figuring I had jumped for free, and I suppose I am becoming quite flush, quite street-wise in my dealings. All in good spirits though, as we toot and teeter on the brink of freedom.
http://www.tshirtterrorist.co.za/Index
It has been some time, but I have decided to continue my blog on jumping between joburg taxis. By this I mean traveling Mzani-style, not literally dodging these things in the road. That would be manic.
In the interim I have discovered a new route through to Fourways that doesn't take the M1/N1 highway exchange. My reluctance to use the highway has nothing to do with the new tolling system, I simply don't enjoy hurtling along at highspeed in a taxi, I prefer it when they're boxed in traffic on the city streets, hooting and jostling, vying for position and edging along the yellow lane. I feel it to be a bit safer this way. An illusion I entertain to while away my hours spent on the road.
People in taxis are friendly. We enjoy a camaraderie lacking elsewhere. Handing over your fare to a stranger and being forced to share with them a tiny section of seat as they cram us in, traveling in the same boat as it were, centring the experience around the common goal - a destination, has a harmonising effect. All men travel equal, and there is little time for attitude.
The other day, moving across the Mandela bridge the guy next to me excuses himself and tries to give me R2.50, claiming I had over-paid. I know I handed him R8.00, which was the fare from Bree to Cresta, but this guy, a well-spoken student-type, clearly my junior, insisted that I take the R2.50. In his eyes, if a mistake was made it could only be mine, in handing him a R5 coin instead of a R2. I saw he wouldn't be dissuaded so I took the money thinking I could make a fortune this way, the obligatory white guy in a taxi casually accepting handfuls of change through fare-errors with people being super-nice all the time.
Like this other time, on the new Fourways route, there was massive change contusion. The passenger in front was not a money minded fellow and straight away things went awry. He kept on handing back the wrong change, and with people working out their own fares between them and passing them forward at different times, the three rows behind the driver that is, you can imagine how, with only your wits to manage the transactions, if you get it wrong it can go all the way wrong. Nearly in Bryanston the driver had to stop on the side of the road and whatwhat everybody behind him, and next to him to try figure this out. The end result... we started again, everybody got their money back and repaid. This doesn't work though as people have already managed change between themselves, and the money came back in rows. Of course, being the white guy I got more money than I should have, I already had my change but the nice lady next to me insisted I must have made a mistake this money was mine... so I repaid, kept my change, and made R1 out of the confusion. What can you do? It's difficult to argue with sincerity.
Add this to the few times where I have completely forgotten to pay, simply hailed the taxi and sat down lost in thought, and then jumped, later figuring I had jumped for free, and I suppose I am becoming quite flush, quite street-wise in my dealings. All in good spirits though, as we toot and teeter on the brink of freedom.
http://www.tshirtterrorist.co.za/Index
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