Its 11:45pm on a Wednesday and Im waiting on a fare to come out of a house in Humboldt Park. The Gandalf says, “house in the back” after ...
Link: chicagohack.com
Mr. Samarov, an artist and painter trained at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, is an astute observer of human nature. He records those observations in his debut book Hack: Stories From a Chicago Cab and on canvas. The exhibition will open in the Main Gallery on January 23, ...
It's time to put this site to bed. I don't drive a cab any more so there won't be any more stories to add. There isn't much reason for this stuff to sit here gathering whatever the virtual equivalent of dust is called. A video portrait shot during my last days driving a cab by filmmak...
The prospect of going to the South and West sides of Chicago to pick up handicapped passengers wasn't always that enticing to Checker drivers. Many of these passengers occasionally had to wait an hour or longer to be picked up. To remedy this, the company created an Incentive Fare com...
I pick up a well-heeled couple from the Chicago Brauhaus in Lincoln Square. The gent has an accent I can’t place but it sounds the way rich people on TV sound. He wears a navy-blue sport coat as naturally as I’d wear an old t-shirt. He’s well into his sixties at minimum. His companion...
I'm trying out Barnes & Noble's unfortunately-named Pubit! to put out a chapter from my forthcoming second book. Have a look and pick one up if you've got a spare $1.99... (Leave a comment, rating, or what-have-you as well, please.)
Kenny was the owner of the Blue Light, though he'd make every effort to tell you otherwise...He belonged to a motorcycle club, wore a Rollie Fingers-style mustache and a rat-tail at the end of what was left of his hair...He was fond of drinking Tequila Rose, a liqueur that looked like...
A video portrait shot during my last days driving a cab by
Some snapshots from Saint Patrick’s Day on a Saturday night in Chicago. Driving my first fare of the day, a sweating man crosses our path on Ashland Avenue. His eyes are glassy, unseeing, as he stumbles past. Four or five necklaces of green plastic beads cover his wrongly-buttoned shi...
