I realize it’s been about a week since the last 375,000 mile ex-NYC taxi cross-country adventure update, and that’s on me. I apologize. I’ll just come out and tell you that the taxi made it, incredibly, climbing those Rockies like a champ, barreling down them like some other champ, and ...
I realize it’s been about a week since the last 375,000 mile ex-NYC taxi cross-country adventure update, and that’s on me. I apologize. I’ll just come out and tell you that the taxi made it, incredibly, climbing those Rockies like a champ, barreling down them like some other champ, and I, an entirely different manner […]I’ll just come out and tell you that the taxi made it, incredibly, climbing those Rockies like a champ, barreling down them like some other champ, and I, an entirely different manner of champ, managed to curtail my deep and powerful urges to drive it right smack into one of those runaway truck ramps.Again, I did not drive at full breakneck speed onto one of those huge gravel ramps used to slow down trucks, and that is part of why this story is such a tale of triumph, but only a tiny, infinitesimal part. The real reason is this incredible taxi itself, which somehow refused to quit, and, I suppose, all of the work put into this miserable little basket case of a cab by Stephen Walter Gossin, David Tracy, Andy King, and yes, even me.And yet, after an awful lot of work, some of genuine quality, but an awful lot of those repairs – mostly the ones I did – should give you some intense feelings of slipshodenfreude – after all that this taxi has really achieved, if not the impossible, then definitely the extremely improbable, and made its way, under its own power, all the way across this vast and great land of ours.