Taxi School Dropout | September 1, 2004

Eight men slouch in desks that form a slight semi-circle within the windowless classroom. Bags hang below their eyes. Most are immigrants: Indian, Ghanaian, and Bangladeshi. All are taxi drivers who don’t want to lose their jobs.

The younger guys — most have only driven for a few years — pay more attention to personal style, sporting the finest discount threads the main drags in Queens or Brooklyn have to offer. The two older guys, the veterans, are more disheveled, their shirts tucked in haphazardly. "Om Dutta Sharma, 71, sits peacefully, a slight smile on his face. He stands up to survey the crowd and adjust the belt beneath his hanging belly.

Some fidget and check the time. Sitting here at midday, the drivers are losing money — or precious time to sleep before a night shift begins. But if they don’t attend this two-day course at La Guardia Community College in Queens, they will lose their hack license, and the chance to drive a cab in New York City.

Few eyes stir when Andrew Vollo strides into the room. He’s part new age pusher of green tea and yoga, part veteran cabbie who walks and talks like he’s still behind the wheel of a yellow Ford Crown Victoria. Vollo is the director of the NYC Taxi and FHV Driver Institute, and teaches this monthly reform school for cabbies who have received three TLC summonses.

Some drivers have been cited for — shockingly! — being discourteous to passengers. Or they were caught cutting across two lanes without signaling. Or ticketed for talking on a cell phone while driving. About this last infraction, Vollo notes later in the afternoon, “I think it’s rude. And unprofessional. And it is illegal.” Then continues to the drivers still bewildered that this pastime is against the law: “Do I want a guy talking on the phone when my life is in his hands?” A mobile rings and a driver searches frantically for his phone.

Peeling a tangerine, Vollo starts the class by asking, “In one hour, how many times do you think you violate traffic codes?”

A few guys look puzzled. Responses come forth. “Ten times.” “Fifteen.”

Before moving on, Vollo offers his support. “I know cab drivers get pulled over more than regular drivers.”

Sharma opens his mouth for the first time. “The city needs money. It is called legalized extortion.”

Vollo tilts his head, perhaps conceding the fact, and continues. “Do you put on your flashers every time you pull over or change lanes?” Before anyone can respond, he adds, “If you could diminish all that, it could change your life.” By Vollo’s thinking, fewer violations mean less fear of getting caught and thus less stress.

The central mission of Vollo’s course is to help drivers improve the way they care for themselves and approach the job. “Every time you do something wrong it affects all drivers. We have to change this image. Do it one customer at a time. Be more professional. Customize that ride.”

Talking about change is easier than accomplishing it. These are grown men. Bringing a positive approach to the job seems foreign. Many in the room think customers are disrespectful to drivers. An older driver, wearing a yarmulke hidden beneath his baseball hat, remarks, “Sometimes you just gotta pull a quick U-ee on 42nd between Fifth and Sixth. No cop will ever stop you there.” The class explodes and becomes a support group free-for-all. Drivers offer passenger horror stories and argue over the best way to approach Port Authority, or get to JFK during rush hour.

Then the conversation takes another turn. A driver from Egypt asks, “What about people having sex in the back of the cab?”

Vollo responds with a wry smile, “It’s an American dream.”

Sharma interjects, “It is not a dream. It’s an American value.”

To this, the choir nods approvingly. Sharma appeals to the group. “The city, they can’t function without us. And we get punished. Drivers have no rights, only duties.” The other drivers listen with rapt attention as Sharma speaks. He understands taxi driving, and is living proof that a poor immigrant can survive the job and carve out a nice living.

Sharma shouldn’t even be in this class as he has been driving for 26 years and knows the rules of the game. “Take the side streets, get off the main avenues,” he says. “People are always coming out of apartment buildings. Break away from the mob mentality.” When one driver laments his financial struggles, Sharma tells the disciple, “In this town, there’s always money.” Sharma should know: since getting behind the wheel, he’s been able to buy a house in Queens and two in India. He’s even opened a girls’ school in his home village.

But nonetheless he is sitting here in Vollo’s class. All cab drivers are required to fill out a trip record, taking down info like pick-up and drop-off points, fares etc. Sharma said he did it the first few years he drove, but stopped because “it’s of no use at all.” In the last 18 months, he has received three summons for failing to have this record.

Sharma actually seems happy to be attending the class. He questions some of Vollo’s points seemingly only to grab the attention of the younger drivers and then dispense his vast taxi driving wisdom. Since he owns his taxi medallion and can drive whenever he pleases, he doesn’t fret about the lost fares. For this, he should thank his wife.

He had been driving for two years back in 1979 when she handed him $8,380 to use as a down payment on a medallion. “She had been taking money away from my pocket every day for two years.” Sharma says he still never knows how much money he has on him. As the price of medallions skyrocket, Sharma refinances his medallion’s mortgage every three years. “Why should I leave the equity there,” he quips.

Sharma came to New York in 1973, following his wife, a nurse. She worked, while he struggled. Though he had practiced law in India, he didn’t want to return to the field. He drifted between jobs, working at Burger King, woodworking, and, later, selling life insurance. One afternoon in 1977, he hailed a cab and quizzed the driver about the job. “I asked him all the questions that needed to be asked.” The next day, Sharma got his hack license and has been driving ever since. “I am lucky to do this job, I don’t think I can do anything else.”

But does cabbie reform school have any tangible effect on the drivers? Vollo thinks so, though a few of the guys in attendance are repeat participants. But all the men need to do is look at Sharma — walking, contented proof that this vocation can be satisfying, both financially and spiritually. Maybe Sharma and Vollo should co-host these classes, their banter is that effective. Actually it could happen: Sharma thinks 2005 will be his last year driving and has just applied to teach a course for new drivers.

© 2009 david gerlach | contact: davidgerlach at yahoo dot com