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POSTCARD FROM NEW YORK: Taxi Driver

I introduced myself to Jay. “We need to get gas,” he said. “Get in.” Jay is a man of few words.

Being an enemy of the awkward pause, I attempted to strike up a conversation.

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“How long have you been a driving instructor?” I asked—it seemed like a safe enough question to me.

“Oh, this is my second day,” he replied.

Um.

“I had two students get into accidents yesterday,” he continued. “But they were pretty cool about it.”

I smiled and laughed. He was joking, right?

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