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Richard Bostwick Reminiscences Welfare Office Stories Cab Driving Stories Prohibition Stories |
Fun Is Where You Find It
As I have said before, you certainly meet a lot of odd people when driving a cab. Some of their morals are as varied as their appearances are. Take the case of a young fellow I met in a hotel lobby after having delivered a passenger there. This hotel was one that catered mostly to the farming community of the surrounding area. This fellow stopped me as I was leaving and asked if he could hire the services of my cab later on in the evening, as he had a party who wanted to take a trip into the country. I assured him he could. He then instructed me to be at the side door of the hotel @ 8:30 p.m. sharp. As I pulled up to the side door @ 8:30, out comes this young fellow accompanied by two farmer boys who appeared to be about 16 or 17 years of age. There was also an older fellow whom I later found out was the boys' father. Along with these three farmers were three flashy looking girls who seemed to be in their early 20's. They all crowded into my cab, except for the fellow who hired me. Instead of getting into the cab, he followed me around to the driver's side and told me to drive my passengers out into the country and that one of the girls would tell me where to go. As I started out, I asked the girl who was sitting between me and the boys' father exactly where they wished to go. She said, “Straight ahead, I will tell you where to turn at the next cross road.” I did as she said, and after traveling down this side road aways, she told me to stop next to a large straw stack which was about 30 feet over in the field beyond the roadside ditch. I stopped and they all piled out. The father said, “Come on boys, you are now going to experience what life is all about.” The father then instructed me to come back for them in an hour or so. With that, they all scrambled across the shallow ditch and headed in the direction of the straw pile. In about an hour, I returned to the spot where I had left them. I found the two boys sitting by themselves on the edge of the ditch, and two of the girls standing down the road aways. The third girl and the boys' father were nowhere in sight. As I stopped, the two girls came over and got in the front seat with me. I asked them where the other couple was and one of them told me to blow my horn, as the other couple was still over by the straw stack. I blew my horn. As I waited, the two girls were giggling-laughing and talking about how bashful the two boys had been. From the girls' conversation, I took it that neither of the boys had been interested in ‘what life is all about.' They would not have anything to do with either of the girls. One of the girls said to the other, “What do we care, we have already been paid.” The father and the third girl finally dug themselves out of the straw pile, came over to the cab and climbed into the back seat with the other two boys. The father seemed quite disappointed with his two sons. I drove them back to the hotel where they all got out. The fellow who hired me came out of the hotel and paid me the cab fare. I asked him what was going on. He explained that the father had told him that he figured his sons had been missing too much of life by being isolated on the farm, so he had decided to bring them into town for a little fun. As it turned out, it seemed the only one who had any ‘fun' was the old man. |
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Institute for Regional Studies Home Page 701-231-8914 Published by the Institute for Regional Studies, NDSU Updated: 7/30/2007 |
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