Three weddings and a funeral

It's the Yuletide season: a time for joy, peace, celebration and laughter.  This story isn't funny, it's a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions.

Meet Chris.  He's 70 years of age and has been driving cabs for ten years.  He is as fit as a fiddle and you can regularly find him on the ranks reading historical novels and playing his harmonica.  He moved to Canberra originally to train as a surveyor and mapped out vast areas of Canberra before turning his hand to taxi driving. Once a criminal tried to rob him and he had no fear even though the criminal pulled a knife on him.  He simply drove to the nearest servo and the criminal ran off.

He has been married three times, in his own words, he is a "mad rooter".  His first wife, whom was a librarian, was totally paranoid that someone was going to drop an atom bomb on Canberra. They moved down the coast for a while, before moving back to Canberra so that his first wife could find her destiny. His first wife was raised by the nuns who had told her that everyone has a destiny.  Before divorcing, they managed three kids, and all, unlike the author, are well adjusted individuals with proper careers and a future.  His first wife now has MS and lives a very lonely life.

His second wife was of Italian decent, and they had a child who now dances as a ballerina in London, New York and Paris.  She is living the dream. They divorced because she was not satisfied with the money that Chris was making as a surveyor.

Taking his second wife's advice, Chris moved to China to continue his surveying work, only this time he was going to be paid a lot more.  He met an interpreter, Maree, and they travelled through China for a year, surveying different parts of China before they finally became a couple.  Chris and Maree got married and returned to Australia where Chris started working as an taxi driver.

Maree bore Chris a daughter when Chris was 63 (he is a mad rooter).  I met their daughter once when Chris invited me around for dinner, trying to set me up with a Chinese lady who had recently separated from her Australian husband.  Chris' daughter was extremely intelligent for a seven year old.  She could play the violin and busked.  Sometimes she would make more money in a busking shift than Chris did in a taxi shift!

Then, out of the blue, Chris' daughter was killed in a car accident.  Now he just mops around ranks in misery, staring at a photo of his daughter and talking of his suicidal thoughts.  I try to cheer him up and say how much I value him as a person but it is to no avail.  Maree, who is a Buddhist, believes in reincarnation and wants another child, believing that their daughter will be reincarnated if they have another child.  However, Chris is not interested as he doesn't feel that he will have the energy to run around after a child.  They say that if a married couple lose a child, 70% of the time it will end in divorce.  I feel, but do not hope, that Chris and Maree are headed down the same path.

I wish you all the best Chris.  May you find happiness through your music, your reading, your mad rooting and your beating off of criminals despite your daughter's death.  Hope.

Getting a rise from a triathlette

One slow Saturday afternoon, I got a job from Kingston and raced to the address out of fear that the job would be stolen by another taxi driver as it was on a main road.  I cannot confirm or deny whether I broke the speed limit.  When I got to the address a fit looking bloke with a small suitcase and a laptop bag got in the taxi.  He said "Airport mate, I'm off to do a triathlon in New York with my girlfriend who lives there."  I gave my usual line of "No worries."  He asked me whether I had a girlfriend and I said "No, two years, plenty of dates but no luck yet."  He responded, "There's someone for everyone."

As we drove along he opened his laptop and started chatting with girlfriend via skype.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw that she was only wearing a bra and panties and, boy, was she fit.  They started chatting about the triathlon and then, all of a sudden, she flashed her landing strip which I caught out of the corner of my eye.  My passenger shouted "Boy, are you throwing this taxi driver a BONEr." I admit it got a rise out of the accelerator.

I like a landing strip,
a place to park my rocket.
But prefer a Tasmanian bush,
a place to hide my snake.

JE Pervert 2016.